SUDANESE WOMEN REFUGEES
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SUDANESE WOMEN REFUGEES TRANSFORMATIONS AND FUTURE IMAGININGS
Jane Kani Edward
SUDANESE WOMEN REFUGEES
Copyright © Jane Kani Edward, 2007. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. First published in 2007 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™ 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS Companies and representatives throughout the world. PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–1–4039–8077–9 ISBN-10: 1–4039–8077–2 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Edward, Jane Kani. Sudanese women refugees : transformations and future imaginings / Jane Kani Edward. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1–4039–8077–2 (alk. paper) 1. Women refugees––Sudan. 2. Women immigrants––Egypt. 3. Sudanese––Egypt––Social conditions. I. Title. HV640.5.S9E38 2007 305.48⬘9691409624––dc22 2007007031 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Design by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India. First edition: November 2007 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.
CONTENTS
Preface
vii
Acknowledgments
xiii
Abbreviations and Acronyms
xv
Map of Sudan
xvi
Introduction
1
1 Root Causes of the “North-South” Conflict in Sudan
17
2 Conceptualizing Refugee Conditions from Feminist Perspectives
37
3
49
Conceptual Framework
4 Interviewing Refugees in Transit: Implications on the Research Process
63
5 Sociocultural Institutions and Laws Governing the Southern Sudanese Society
79
6 Sudanese Refugees and the Challenges of Life in Cairo
103
7
Transformations and Future Imaginings
133
8
Race, Racism, and Ethnicity in a Refugee Context
159
Conclusion
189
Epilogue The Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) and the Decision to Return
199
vi
CONTENTS
Appendix 1
203
Appendix 2
205
Appendix 3
207
Appendix 4
211
Appendix 5
215
Notes
217
Glossary
243
Bibliography
245
Index
261
PREFACE
lthough some of the southern Sudanese cultural practices and traditions discourage girls’ education, my love and interest for learning and pursuit of knowledge was initially inspired by my parents. My father, Edward Lojeng Lado, believed in and recognized the importance and value of education for all his children regardless of their gender. As a result, all of us—five daughters and eight sons—were enrolled in school. One reason that might be attributed to his belief in education was his own background as an educator. My mother, Marata Ja’be Paulo, who did not complete her education because she was taken out of school to be married to my father, encouraged me to complete what she herself was unable to complete. My knowledge of some of the cultural practices and traditional values, which will be analyzed in this book, are drawn from my experience growing up in a family environment where rural and urban life experiences interact, as well as from the review of some scholarly writings on the subject. My parents were among the few people from their families living in the city, Juba, and while I was growing up, our home became a meeting place for relatives visiting from the Nyangwara village of Rokon in the Equatoria region of southern Sudan. During these visits, our relatives talked about life in the village, the cultural practices of the Nyangwara people, and their songs and the meanings attached to these songs and practices. Such talks and exchange of ideas that I was keen to listen to enabled me to learn more about some of the Nyangwara cultural practices and traditions that shaped and continue to shape people’s attitudes and perceptions about the relationship between women and men, and between the young and the elderly. Furthermore, social events such as marriage discussions and childnaming ceremony, meran or simaya, have enriched my understanding of the meaning of some of the social and cultural rituals. One of the rituals that is of relevance to discussion on gender roles and gendered division of labor is the child-naming ceremony. During the child-naming ceremony, for example, special foods, mainly black-eyed beans, some green leaf vegetables, sesame oil, and sesame seed paste, are prepared for the invited guests.
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The food is prepared without salt and no alcoholic drinks are consumed during the naming ceremony. Also some rituals are performed on both the mother and the new-born child during the naming process. If the child is a boy, rituals related to his gender roles are performed by the mother. For example, the mother carries the child on one of her shoulders in a traditional baby carrier made out of deer skin, referred to in the Nyangwara language as deepo, while performing mock hunting, herding, and so on, with her other hand. If the child is a girl, the mother will also perform mock women’s roles, such as fetching water, firewood, cooking, cleaning, and so forth. These mock performances symbolize the gendered roles, gendered division of labor, and gender ideologies that govern the Nyangwara society.1 Therefore, it is through participation in and observation of such events and ceremonies, as well as listening to what my relatives from the village talked about, I am able to acquire valuable knowledge about some cultural practices and traditions shaping the understanding and perceptions of many southern Sudanese people in general and the Nyangwara people in particular. Other factors further motivated me to study women in general and women refugees in particular. First, my personal experiences in my youth and adult life have given me the courage and motivation to focus on women’s conditions. Second, reflecting on my years of schooling in Sudan, Egypt, and then Canada, I realized that the experiences and voices of southern Sudanese women refugees have been either misrepresented, ignored, or marginalized both in Sudan’s national discourse that emphasize Arabism and Islamism as defining factors in narrating the nation and in the African refugee literature that tends to emphasize the victimized and dependent image of women refugees. As will be discussed in this book, southern Sudanese, in general, and southern Sudanese women, in particular, differ from northern Sudanese in terms of their cultural practices, language, education, religious beliefs, and experiences in life. Therefore, focusing on their experiences is important. Similarly, my review of the literature on refugees and forced migration shows that, experiences, achievements, and contributions of southern Sudanese women refugees are either marginalized or not adequately addressed. Therefore, my purposes in choosing southern Sudanese women refugees as the focus of my book are two fold: to give voice to the marginalized and silenced, and to challenge the negative representations and the victimized and dependent image of southern Sudanese women refugees in the refugee literature. In preparing to undertake this study initially as a doctoral dissertation and its subsequent transformation into this book, I took several graduate courses that focus on issues related to class, race, ethnicity, and gender. The theories and perspectives offered in these courses enabled me to shape and
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conceptualize my study. Moreover, my previous experiences of working with internally displaced communities in Juba, southern Sudan from 1989 to 1992; involvement in research on displaced and refugee communities in Egypt, Northern Uganda, and Yei, southern Sudan; as well as my involvement in community work, particularly in Egypt from 1992 to mid-1997, have given me the opportunity to observe and learn more about the experiences of refugees and displaced people. The selection of Cairo, Egypt, as the site of my research was based on my familiarity with and accessibility and relative safety of Cairo as compared to, for example, Northern Uganda where southern Sudanese refugees were settled during that time. It is also based on the high concentration of Sudanese there. However, my claim of being familiar with the research setting is challenged, especially considering that the city of Cairo has changed greatly since I left in 1997, and only returned to it in late 2001.2 The refugees I found were also different compared to those Sudanese refugees whom I knew and who were in Cairo from the 1980s to early 1990s. The study of southern Sudanese women refugees has both empirical and practical relevance. This study will contribute to filling in the empirical gap that exists in the contemporary field of refugee and forced migration literature. As I discuss in the introduction of this book, my review of the refugee literature has shown that there are very few detailed and significant studies done on the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees. For instance, very little is said about the roles and contributions of southern Sudanese women refugees to their families and communities in exile or in displaced people’s camps inside Sudan. Their political contributions are completely ignored. Furthermore, little is known about the ways in which southern Sudanese women refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs) use newly acquired skills, knowledge, and experiences to challenge some of the repressive social and cultural aspects of the southern Sudan society. Similarly, the intersection of race, class, gender, and ethnicity in determining the status determination procedures at the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), and the host-refugees relationship is rarely addressed. Even when women are included, the literature tends to represent them solely as victims of the civil war, dependents on men and/or international relief aid, and sees them as the most vulnerable group among the refugee and internally displaced population. It is true that women suffered and continue to suffer most during civil wars. For example, women are subjected to rape, forced marriage, forced prostitution, discrimination, and other forms of gender-based violence. Similarly upon arrival at a displaced people or refugee camp, refugees in general and women refugees in particular might need assistance to meet their basic human needs. However, this should not
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negate the fact that women have also struggled and made some important decisions and actions to help themselves and their families during the initial time of dislocation, resettlement, and before the arrival of outside help. Therefore, my study is significant because it brings to the fore the ignored contributions and achievements of southern Sudanese women refugees and those internally displaced, evoking the power and agency of these women and their resistance to a dependent image of the refugee. My analysis goes beyond the household or the family and reproductive ideologies, into exploring some of the cultural aspects of southern Sudanese, as well as the laws and customs that govern the southern Sudan society. Analyzing these issues sets the basis for understanding changes and transformations in women’s attitudes and perceptions as they experienced life in exile. In addition to its contribution to the existing knowledge on refugees and forced migration, the book is relevant and important for both southern Sudanese women refugees and those who are interested in Sudan’s studies. For the women refugees, the study will provide them with an opportunity to view themselves not only as victims and dependents, but also as creators of knowledge and agents of social action and change. The study will also allow them to see the positive aspects of exile as well. For example, life in refuge sometimes provides avenues for women to reimagine their lives, to perceive the world around them differently, to reflect on their past, and to question some of the societal structures and cultural meanings that constrained their freedom and progress. Finally, life in refuge allows for imagining a different future, given their experiences in exile. As for those interested in Sudan, the book provides them with a different understanding and analysis of the situation in Sudan in general and that of southern Sudanese refugees in particular. Such an understanding will allow hopefully for the rethinking and reevaluation of the past—and contemporary—ways of knowing that were—and are—used to study southern Sudanese refugees. Furthermore, the study reshapes and redirects the focus from an analysis of a general situation of refugees and IDPs and the impact of war on the civilian population, toward issues of gender, class, race, ethnic differentials, age, and other forms of social difference. It also helps us raise some critical questions, such as how all these issues have influenced the ways in which refugees are treated, or represented, how the refugees view themselves, and how they respond to the refugee situation based on their social position. Therefore, my book is both transformative and a challenge to the existing literature on southern Sudanese women and men refugees. For educators, the study certainly will enable them to engage in an educational exercise, which integrates gender, class, race, and sexuality
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as understood in the refugee context in their educational curriculum and practice. The book further helps educators at all levels to foster a strategy that ensures that educational activities serve local community needs and concerns for social justice, equity, and power sharing in a given society.3
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
his book is based on my revised doctoral dissertation. The completion of this book would have not been possible without the continuous support and encouragements of many individuals. I would like to thank members of my PhD thesis committee for their ongoing support and guidance. I am very grateful to my supervisor Professor George Dei for his helpful feedback, suggestions, and guidance throughout my doctoral program. I would like also to thank Professor Ruth Roach Pierson who took a keen interest in my work in the early stages of my doctoral program, and who remained in my thesis committee after her early retirement. Her close reading of my work and continuous guidance and encouragement are very much appreciated. Furthermore, I would like to thank Professor Rose Folson for her ongoing support, feedback, and helpful suggestions especially on areas such as African feminism and refugee and forced migration studies. Many thanks also go to my external examiner Professor Jok Madut Jok for his helpful comments and encouraging words. His suggestions are thoughtful and constructive. I would also like to thank the two anonymous reviewers who reviewed my book prospectus for their constructive suggestions. Numerous individuals and institutions have made my fieldwork particularly successful. Many thanks go to Professor Nicholas Hopkins of the American University in Cairo, for understanding my research endeavors and supporting me financially. I thank him especially for believing in me and in appreciating what I am trying to accomplish in my academic career. I would like to thank also the United States Institute for Peace for the financial support that enabled me to travel to Cairo, Egypt, to carry out my fieldwork. Special thanks go to Jeffrey Helsing of the United States Institute for Peace. I would also like to thank Ma’an Women Group, a nongovernmental organization based in Cairo for the financial support that helped me meet some of my research needs and expenses. My stay in Cairo would not have been possible without the generous support of Dr Magda M. Ali and Mr Kamal Ibrahim who welcomed me into the comfort of their home in Cairo. Of course, their quiet home environment and the special
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
care accorded to me by the family enabled me to accomplish many tasks related to my fieldwork. Special thanks go to the southern Sudanese refugee community in Cairo, women and men refugees, leaders of the refugee community organizations, and women’s and youth’s groups who shared with me their individual and collective experiences. Many thanks and appreciations also go to the personnel of the different international organizations, church groups, and other local organizations who allowed me into their offices to learn more about their programs that are designed for the refugees. Finally, I would like to thank my husband Amir Idris for believing in me and for his continuous guidance, support, and encouragement throughout the initial stages of this book as a doctoral thesis to its subsequent transformation into a book. Many thanks are also due to my children Amanawil and Bawila for their patience.
ABBREVIATIONS AND ACRONYMS
AU CEDAW CPA FGM GONU GOSS ICPD IDPs INS IOM JRM LRA NCP NGOs NIF NNGOs OXFAM PDF PVOs RDC SOSSA SPLA SPLM/A SSLM UN UNHCR UNHCR RO WCW
The African Union Convention for the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women Comprehensive Peace Agreement Female Genital Mutilation Government of National Unity Government of Southern Sudan International Conference for Population and Development Internally Displaced Persons Immigration and Naturalization Services International Organization of Migration Joint Relief Ministry Lord Resistance Army National Congress Party Nongovernmental Organizations National Islamic Front Northern Nongovernmental Organizations Oxford Committee for Famine Relief Popular Defence Forces Private Voluntary Organizations Refugee Data Center Southern Sudanese Students Association Sudan People’s Liberation Army Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army Southern Sudan Liberation Movement United Nations United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees Regional Office World Conference for Women
Egypt Libya Wadi Halfa
N
llo
R
Port Sudan
Red Sea
.
Sawakin Atbara
Chad Omdurman
Kassala
Eritrea
Khartoum Wad Madani
Al Fashir
A Qadarif Kusti
Al Ubayyid Nyala
Malakl Ethiopia Central African Republic
Waw Bor Juba Nimule
Democratic Republic of Congo
Uganda
International borders Capital city Cities
Map 1 Map of Sudan
Kenya
INTRODUCTION
ince the second half of the twentieth century, Sudan has been ravaged by a series of civil wars. The first phase of the north-south civil war in Sudan started in 1955 and ended with the signing of the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972 between the central government and the Southern Sudan Liberation Movement (SSLM). The second phase of the northsouth civil war began in 1983 and ended with the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) between the National Islamic Front (NIF) government of Sudan and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A) in Niavasha, Kenya, on January 9, 2005.1 The conflict in Darfur began in February 2003 and continues today. For many years prior to Sudan’s independence in 1956, the relations between northern and southern Sudanese were hostile and consisted largely of invasions by northern slave traders during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and aggression by the successive postcolonial northern-based governments trying to dominate the south. Despite the complexities of Sudan’s ethnic, racial, religious, linguistic, and cultural diversity, the first two wars in the Sudan have translated into a north-south dichotomy, with race and religion among others as its major factors. However, neither the north nor the south represents a homogeneous and undifferentiated group of people; rather, differences based on race, ethnicity, gender, religion, region, class, and experiences do exist. During the first two wars, many southern Sudanese either died or became internally displaced whereas others fled the country to seek safety and better economic opportunities in the neighboring and Western countries.2 Although there has been no established statistical data as to how many Sudanese people are either dead or displaced by the (1983–2005) civil war in Sudan, various estimates put the figure of those dead at about 2 million, mainly from southern Sudan.3 Similarly, there is an estimated 5.5 million Sudanese who are displaced, of whom 4 million are internally displaced, most of them southerners. They were displaced from rural areas into garrison towns, such as Juba, Wau, and Malakal in the south, whereas others were/are living in displaced people’s camps, mainly in the outskirts
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of Khartoum, the capital of Sudan. The other 1.5 million sought refuge in the neighboring countries of Egypt, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, the Democratic Republic of Congo (former Zaire), and in some Western countries such as Canada, the United States, Australia, and other European countries. The war also led to the destruction of the infrastructure and the social, cultural, and economic fabric of the southern Sudanese society. Much earlier literature on refugees, in general, and refugees from Africa, in particular, focuses on the conventional definition of a refugee, regional and international instruments pertaining to refugees, and the shortcomings of such definitions and instruments in our contemporary world of continuous refugee flow. In his study of the problems of refugees in Africa, Blavo Q. Ebenezer outlined the causes of refugee problems in Africa, definitions of a refugee, refugees’ life in refuge, and the ways in which problems of refugees in Africa should be addressed. He concluded his book by assessing the value and effectiveness of existing refugee policies in some African countries.4 Other scholars seek to understand the root causes of the refugee phenomenon, patterns of refugee flows, and the function of the international agencies dealing with refugees.5 Similarly, others offered a comprehensive analysis of refugee movements in Sub-Saharan Africa, Eastern Europe, and the Balkans, tracing their origins and resulting responses. According to B. Q. Ebenezer, “[regional] analysis of refugee movements can serve to illustrate both the contrasts and commonalities across settings differing in terms of economic development, population size, availability of land, efficiency of territorial and boundary control, and ethnopolitical context.”6 Other analyses emphasized the function and politics of the international relief agencies and other private voluntary organizations (PVOs) in dealing with refugees. For example, Robert F. Gorman identified five phases of refugee situations: preemergency, emergency relief, postemergency, durable solutions, and post integration and development.7 Such analyses usually emphasize the paternalistic and sympathetic attitudes of these agencies, that is, their concern with the “needs and sufferings of people affected and not with the underlying causes which have led to their distress.”8 In terms of definition, the literature tends to universalize and homogenize the refugee category. In other words, the refugees are seen as a homogeneous group. According to McSpadden and Moussa (1993), “the term ‘refugee’ conjures up the assumption that all a person is and has been is a refugee.”9 For Liisa Malkki, the term refugee as represented by the international agencies and administrators of the hosting governments tends to “depoliticize the refugee category and to construct in that depoliticized space an ahistorical, universal humanitarian subject.”10 Malkki went further to argue that “[t]his dehistoricizing universalism creates a context in which
INTRODUCTION
3
it is difficult for people in the refugee category to be approached as historical actors rather than as mute victims.”11 Viewing refugees in such a way strips them of their preflight experiences, agency, culture, and their way of life. Therefore, as argued by Doreen Indra, “[t]he category ‘refugee’ . . . whose genealogy begins in the North . . . is now being constructed in other ways elsewhere, especially in Africa. Once assessed in terms of generic, universalized, genderless standards, even some Northern governments now assert that gender oppression should be officially recognized as criterion for political/legal refugee status.”12 However, the treatment of the category “refugee” as an undifferentiated or as an unchanging category is often problematic in my view. Treating refugees as a homogeneous group tends to erase the different histories, politics, and experiences of the refugee population, a treatment that will eventually structure the processes of their settlement. Similarly, such a conceptualization tends to obscure the significant differences between women, men, and children refugees. It also renders invisible the differences in class, race, ethnicity, age, (dis)ability, and other forms of difference.13 Embedded in the universalizing and undifferentiated category of a refugee is the view that refugees from Africa are also victims and dependents who rely solely on outside help. This victimized and dependent image of African refugees is evident in the early writings on refugees. For instance, in his analysis of the role of the United Nations in dealing with African refugees, George Ivan Smith (1967) emphasized the victim nature of African refugees, as those who need outside help. According to him, African refugees are victims; thus, “victims want help and we are helpers.”14 Emphasizing the combined effort by humanitarian agencies, Smith went on to note that “by common effort and intensive liaison we could get as near as humanly possible to a point at which we were consistently advising the victim of all the avenues open to him.”15 Sometimes the literature tends to represent the refugees as a “problem” or a “burden” of the international relief agencies. A review of earlier writings on African refugees has shown how the titles of books on African refugees convey the dependency, burden, and victimization of the refugee: Mink, Africa’s Refugee Crisis: What to Be Done (1986), Hamrell, Refugee Problems in Africa (1967), Gorman, Coping with Africa’s Refugee Burden: A Time for Solutions (1987), among many.16 L. Malkki has argued that “[a]sylum states and international agencies dealing with refugees, as well as much of the policy oriented, therapeutic literature on refugees, tend to see refugees as ‘a problem’ . . . They are constituted as an anomaly requiring specialized correctives and therapeutic interventions.”17 Viewing the refugee as a “problem” usually tends to shift the focus away from the circumstances and the root causes that led to the mass displacement of people
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in the first place. Thus, emphasis is placed on seeking ways of dealing with the refugees—ways that are usually temporary. Furthermore, it “locates ‘the problem’ within the bodies and minds of refugees rather than the violent condition that produces massive displacement of people.”18 The representation of African refugees solely as victims, desperate for outside help, is often problematic because it ignores the struggles and efforts made by the refugees to alleviate some of their problems before the arrival of foreign relief. At the same time, representing African women refugees as helpless victims of displacement usually ignores their agency, as well as downplaying the contributions and achievements made by African women refugees in their struggle for survival in refugee camps or elsewhere. Moreover, viewing African women refugees as backward, without skills and knowledge also tends to deny differences among African women refugees based on their class, age, ethnicity, race, educational achievements, and work experiences in their countries of origin. In other words, the “image of women as victims, and victimized is also a distortion of the varied and diverse experiences of refugee women.”19 Similarly, refugee literature that analyzes the situation of Sudanese refugees and Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) focuses on the war situation, factional fighting, unsuccessful peace talks, the shifting political climate in Sudan, famine, environmental degradation, military activities, and the effect of all these on civilian population.20 Furthermore, most of the literature represents southern Sudanese refugees and IDPs in similar ways as noted above. For instance, they tend to homogenize the category “southern Sudanese refugees” or “IDPs,” thereby erasing the differences that might exist between them. Similarly, the IDPs were/are seen as a danger and threat to public health, a threat to rural and national food security, and as a threat to cultural homogeneity and public order of the capital city.21 According to Salah el Din E. Ibrahim, “displacement has aroused mounting concerns in Sudan. Much of it, however, stems from a negative conception of the displaced. They are generally considered a threat to health, social order and responsible for the pressure on social services and the shortage of basic goods.”22 Viewing the IDPs as a threat to public order and national security, the NIF government in Sudan that came to power in 1989 used several strategies of discrimination, exclusion, and containment of the internally displaced. Among these strategies was the adoption of the policy of forcible relocation, which is locally referred to as kasha. According to a number of studies, the displaced were randomly rounded up by police and military forces and were relocated to their regions of origin, or to the desert on the outskirts of Khartoum.23
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This book challenges the victimized and dependent image of African women refugees, in general, and southern Sudanese women refugees, in particular, by invoking their power, agency, and placing them at the center of the study. It draws on the work that women refugees do, the new skills and knowledge they have acquired, and their struggle to survive to counter the victimized and dependent image claim. Challenging the victimized image of women refugees should not be understood as a refusal to acknowledge the fact that women refugees are victims of war, displacement, and other circumstance. On the contrary, women refugees have suffered and continue to suffer from the impact of war on their livelihood. Many of them have lost their love ones, property, sense of belonging, and a normal way of life. Furthermore, when refugees arrive in the host country, it is important to acknowledge that they may need some help in meeting some basic human needs, such as food and shelter. However, instead of seeing these needs as a state of victimization and total dependency, rather these should be viewed as a stage in the lives of the refugees. Emphasizing the victimized image ignores the power and agency of women in the face of all the challenges they face as refugees. In other words, despite the difficulties they face, they remain active agents in reshaping their lives and communities in exile. Similarly, challenging the victimized and dependent image of African women refugees should not be taken to mean that African refugees are not in need of external relief aid. Nor should this critique be taken as a dismissal of humanitarian intervention as useless or unnecessary. Rather, it is intended to show that when dealing with refugee populations particularly from Africa, it is necessary for those involved to capture the complexity of the refugees’ conditions, by identifying both refugees’ needs and their efforts in alleviating some of their difficulties before and after the arrival of external aid. L. Malkki has rightly argued that “[b]ecause humanitarian interventions are increasingly important we should have better ways of conceptualizing, designing, and challenging them. Thus it is useful to examine the idea of a universal, a historical humanity that forms the basis of much of contemporary progressive politics.”24 Another aspect, which is missing in the earlier literature on refugees, is gender and difference. Contemporary literature on refugees has shown that gender is an area where many negotiations and changes occur as a consequence of displacement.25 Working across disciplines and professions, feminist theorists on refugee and forced migration studies have brought women refugees’ issues to the fore in international refugee agencies and in particular the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). These theorists emphasized the lived experience of refugees as the basis of
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knowledge about the refugee situation. For instance, in the late 1980s and through the 1990s there was an increase in the need for a culturally and context-specific knowledge informed by the experiences of women refugees themselves.26 It is generally argued that, although all refugees are similarly affected by the situations that cause uprootedness and refugeeness, because of their gender, women refugees’ experiences differ from those of men.27 In addition to physical insecurity and fear of persecution, women refugees are further subjected to sexual harassment, rape, and forced prostitution during flight and settlement processes. Also another aspect that is not adequately addressed in the debate on refugees is the issue of race, racism, and ethnicity in refugee situations, particularly in Africa. For instance, in analyzing the host-refugee relationships, the literature tends to focus mainly on the economic dimension of these relations, which are seen as contributing to the unfriendly attitude of host populations toward refugees. Refugees and IDPs, for example, are frequently blamed for shortages in housing and social services, as well as for any rise in the cost of living.28 Similarly, when analyzing the failure of the UNHCR and donor countries to respond quickly and adequately to refugee situations in Africa, researchers emphasize the UNHCR’s lack of funds resulting from the strain felt by the donor countries in implementing programs intended to improve the conditions of refugees.29 However, little is said about how race and ethnicity are implicated in the refugee status determination procedures, and in the nature of support and programs extended and designed for refugees. This book examines the social, cultural, economic, and political transformations that have occurred among southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in Cairo, Egypt. Based on a research conducted in Cairo from December 2001 to January 2002, for my doctoral dissertation, the book traces the nature of the changes in the lives of southern Sudanese women refugees as they come into contact with new cultures, societies, and global affairs affecting women. It intends to show how these women use their newly acquired skills and knowledge to challenge their past and challenge the image of women refugees as victims and dependents in refugee literature. The argument that I make here is that the analysis of African women refugees in the 1970s and 1980s had been mainly gendered and racialized. That is, the situation of African women refugees has been analyzed from the varied perspectives of refugee policy makers, governments, academics, researchers, and relief workers who were predominantly male and who were mostly located in the North (North America and Western Europe). These individuals and institutions usually tend to “dehistorisize,” universalize, and homogenize the refugee category.30 The literature also tends to emphasize the victimized, dependent, and backward
INTRODUCTION
7
image of African women refugees, rather than their strength and contributions to their communities in exile. As a result, the experiences of African women refugees, if not completely ignored, were not yet adequately represented in the refugee literature. These gendered and racialized perspectives further affect the way in which governments and the international community respond to refugee problems, particularly in Africa. This book explores the experiences of southern Sudanese women refugees within the conceptual framework of the interlocking and the intersecting systems of oppression, and the idea of the “simultaneity” of oppression articulated by African feminists,31 black feminists,32 and antiracism and critical race theorists.33 The perspective of African feminism is important in the analysis of the experience of women refugees because it evokes the power of African women and their identities amid the obstacles that confront them by placing them at the center of the study.34 Black feminist thought is also useful in the analysis of the refugee experience because it places the experience of women at the center of the analysis. It also rejects the additive or hierarchization of social oppressions as well. Patricia H. Collins has argued that the interlocking nature of race, gender, and class oppression is one of the recurring themes in black feminist writings. Black feminists challenge both the grand narratives as well as mainstream Western feminism, pointing out the invisibility of black women in those scholarships.35 Many black feminists in North America, for example, have argued that mainstream feminism has excluded and silenced the experiences and voices of nonwhite women in their theorizing and feminist practices.36 Similarly, many of these feminists have rejected both the assertion that gender and patriarchy are the most important forms of oppression, and the assumption that the relationship among the various forms of discriminations is merely additive.37 I also use “integrative antiracism” as an alternative framework that allows me to explore issues of racism and ethnicity and how they are played out in a refugee context, and in particular within the context of a refugeehost relationship.38 According to George Dei, integrative antiracism is defined “as the study of how the dynamics of social difference (race, class, gender, sexual orientation, physical ability, language, education, and religion) are mediated in people’s daily experiences.” Therefore, this framework “acknowledges our multiple, shifting and often contradictory identities and subject positions . . . [it] rejects meta-narratives or grand theories . . . in effect, calls for multiplicative, rather than additive analysis of social oppression.”39 Recognizing the difficulty in adequately addressing all intersectionalities, the book emphasizes issues of gender and gender relations and how they are played out in a refugee context because that is where many negotiations and
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changes occur as a consequence of displacement. However, this emphasis on gender and gender relations should not be understood as ignoring the importance of other forms of oppression, but rather as a starting point to understand the many issues affecting the lives of southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Like race and class, gender represents a central dimension of social structures. Thus, a focus on gender, conceptualized as a socially constructed relationship between the women and men, as they affect and, in turn, are affected by displacement conditions can yield important insights into the refugee phenomena. As George Dei rightly put it, “selecting one form of human experience as a point of entry may render another experience invisible. Yet we cannot adequately simultaneously explore all experiences with the same vigour and intensity. Therefore, we should attempt to capture, as much as possible, from the points where they intersect with one particular form of social oppression the diversity and multiplicity of human experiences.”40 Sudanese Refugee Population in Egypt Although there is no accurate statistical data on the number of Sudanese refugees in Egypt, estimates put the figure at about 20,000 or more, a figure disputed by many Sudanese living in Egypt.41 However, given the fact that Sudanese comprise the bulk of the caseload of the UNHCR Regional Office Cairo, as well as of the increase in the demand for services provided by Nongovernmental Organizations (NGOs) and churches in Cairo, one can claim that there is a large and increasing number of Sudanese in Egypt. These people can be categorized into two groups: those recognized by the UNHCR as refugees and those who are either waiting for their status determination interview or rejected or self-settled. According to the UNHCR staff that I interviewed, as of September 2001, there were 3,954 Sudanese refugees in Egypt (1,705 female and 2,249 male). This figure includes those already recognized as refugees as well as cases pending for status determination. Although the UNHCR office deals with all Sudanese, the majority of those seeking resettlement opportunities through the office were southern Sudanese. There were also few people from the Nuba Mountains, western and eastern regions of Sudan. Other Sudanese, especially those from northern and central Sudan, were in Egypt for several reasons. For example, politicians who were and are representing various political parties in Sudan, such as the Umma Party, the Democratic Unionist Party, and others, were in Cairo for political reasons rather than for the direct consequences of war. Others came to Egypt in search of better economic opportunities. The majority of these people had no plans to resettle in a third country. As a result, given their better economic
INTRODUCTION
9
situation, some of these people either own or rent apartments in the affluent neighborhoods in Cairo. Southern Sudanese refugees who are the focus of this study also ought to be divided by the time of their resettlement: those who came to Egypt in the 1980s to the early 1990s and those who came in the late 1990s to the beginning of the twenty-first century. They can be further divided in terms of class differences. This distinction is necessary because it shows how differently positioned refugees respond to refugee conditions and the life choices they make, and it also give insights into the dynamic relationship between refugees and the host population. During my fieldwork many participants made a clear distinction between southern Sudanese refugees based on the refugees’ personal characteristics, length of stay in Cairo, class, and the reasons that motivated them to come to Egypt. Earlier Arrivals Most of the southern Sudanese earlier arrivals came to Egypt mainly to pursue postsecondary education, under the “Egyptian Scholarship for Sudanese Students,” which was established after the Addis Ababa Peace Agreement signed in 1972, between the then Sudan government and the SSLM, ending the first seventeen-year civil war. The scholarship was jointly funded by the Egyptian and Sudanese governments. Given the fact that the SSLM was struggling for a separate state in the south, the Egyptian government regarded the scholarship for Sudanese students as Egypt’s contribution to promote the unity of Sudan. It was believed that the exposure of southern Sudanese to Arab culture and language through education would minimize southern Sudanese’s interest for a separate state (personal communication).42 From Egypt’s point of view, this belief is particularly important because the unity of the Sudan is very important for Egypt due to Egypt’s interest in the Nile water that flows through the Sudan to Egypt and that Egypt’s livelihood depends on it. Therefore, it was seen that a creation of a separate state in the south would require Egypt to enter into new agreements regarding the use of the Nile water.43 As a result, in the period between 1972 and 1982 when the three southern provinces of Equatoria, Upper Nile, and Bhar al Ghazal were administered as one administrative entity (see chapter 1), 100 southern Sudanese students were brought to Egypt each year for postsecondary education. Then, after the redivision of the south into three separate administrative regions, respectively, in 1983, 300 hundred students from the three provinces were sent to Egypt each year to study under the Egyptian scholarship. The scholarship program continued until 1992 after which it was terminated by the government of NIF in 1993, which took power in 1989.44
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Similarly, the takamul (integration) of the Nile Valley agreement between Egypt and Sudan, which was first signed in 1974, has allowed many Sudanese to come to Egypt. The takamul “had been worked out in details during [the] years by a joint parliament of the Nile Valley [and] was finally signed . . . on October 12, 1982.”45 Since the takamul agreement granted Sudanese people the right to live in Egypt without a residence permit, many Sudanese came to Egypt for several other reasons. In addition to those who came as students, others came to trade and to seek medical treatment. However, in June 26, 1995, when some Sudanese Islamists attempted to assassinate the Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Mubarak held Sudan’s government responsible for the attempted assassination and thus revoked the takamul treaty.46 Despite this change, Sudanese were/are still able to enter Egypt on a one-month tourist visa. After the expiry of the one-month visa, Sudanese are required to renew their visa. However, given the refugees’ economic situation, securing money for a visa renewal, which costs about 150 Egyptian pounds, which is approximately US$37, is difficult. As a result, many Sudanese refugees continued to live in Egypt illegally (see chapter 6). As for those Sudanese who have been in Egypt long before the assassination attempt on President Mubarak’s life, they were allowed to stay in Egypt without a residence permit requirement. However, when traveling to another country with an intention of returning to Egypt, Sudanese were/are required to obtain a ta’ashira al a’wuda (reentry visa) to enable them to reenter Egypt. Without a reentry visa, one will not be allowed to enter Egypt again. As a result of their longer presence in Egypt and their status as former/ current students, many earlier arrivals have good knowledge of English and/or Arabic languages. Similarly, some of them might have a vision or a plan of what they want to do after finishing their studies. As students in a foreign country during that time, they were organized and committed to each other. For instance, the “Southern Sudanese Students Association” (SSOSA) was established in 1974.47 Also, in the past, the number of Sudanese was relatively small and thus their situation was much better as compared to those who arrived later. Newcomers In contrast to the earlier arrivals, the decision of a newcomer to migrate from Sudan to Egypt is determined by several factors: individual or family financial situation, geographical location (i.e., where a person hails from), familiarity with Sudan’s passport and visa institutions, and connections to those who are in positions of power, and so on. The majority of southern
INTRODUCTION
11
Sudanese who migrated to Egypt in the late 1990s to the early 2000s came from Khartoum, the capital city of Sudan, where they had lived for sometime as displaced persons, and where all the passport, visa offices, and foreign embassies are located. Similarly, some of them have money or property to sell, which they use for visas, passport processing, and travel costs. Throughout my interviews, respondents narrated how they managed to leave Sudan using all possible means to facilitate the process of their migration. For example, it was noted by many respondents that processing a passport, an exit or an entry visa through the formal channels is usually difficult and time consuming. However, knowing people in positions of influence, like the military or police officers, makes the process easier. Southern Sudanese refugees who arrived in Egypt from the late 1990s to the beginning of the twenty-first century mainly come to apply to UNHCR for resettlement. These people can be differentiated in terms of their age, gender, family structure, level of education, and experience. A large number of these refugees are families with small children, mostly headed by females. This is because when families migrate from Khartoum, many husbands prefer to send their wives and children to apply to UNHCR; once their wives are granted application forms and scheduled for an interview for refugee status determination, the husbands follow. However, there is also a small percentage of single fathers caring for their children who migrate as well. Increasingly, there is also a considerable number of unaccompanied minors. Some of them came to Egypt on their own with the hope of being resettled in the West. Other are sponsored by their relatives who are already resettled in either North America or Australia, to come to Egypt and apply for resettlement. Some of these refugees receive a monthly remittance from their relatives abroad to enable them to pay rent and food. Similarly, there is a sizable number of elderly people who migrated from Sudan with uncertain futures. Some of these people left their well-paid jobs or businesses, sold their properties in Sudan, and migrated to Egypt to apply to UNHCR for resettlement. As newcomers arrive at Cairo every Friday, the number of refugees seeking resettlement in a third country has increased, and thus it puts more pressure on the capacity of the organizations and churches helping refugees. The majority of the new arrivals are either uneducated or have little education, and thus lack basic language skills. The majority of the Sudanese refugees reside in Cairo, the capital city of Egypt, where the UNHCR, the International Organization of Migration (IOM), the foreign embassies, and most of the church groups are located. In Cairo most of the southern Sudanese refugees were concentrated in such residential areas as Al Abassiya, Sakanat El Maadi, El Maadi, Hadayik El Maadi, El Hay Al A’shir, and other areas where refugees can
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afford to pay rent. Few refugees (mainly former students) were also found in the cities of Alexandria and Al-Zaggazig. Class Distinction Besides earlier arrivals and newcomers’ distinctions, southern Sudanese refugees can further be differentiated in terms of class. Class distinction is necessary to counter the tendency to homogenize the experiences of those defined as refugees. Although they are subjected to similar refugee conditions, southern Sudanese refugees’ experiences, the choices they make and their responses to the refugee situation vary depending on their class position. Class here is understood not only on the basis of one’s economic position or income-property hierarchies, but also in terms of individuals’ level of education, marital status, professional experiences, and other factors of the refugees. Class difference among refugees is further reflected in their choices of residential areas, the schools which their children attend, and so on. As will be explained in chapter 6 of this book, some of the refugees who worked as domestic workers with non-Egyptian employers48 or those who were getting financial support from relatives abroad, were able to rent apartments in residential areas that were relatively better, as compared to those who lived in buildings that were under construction with no electricity and running water. Similarly some few refugees were able to enroll their children to relatively better nonpublic Egyptian schools. For example, during my stay in Cairo before migrating to Canada in 1997, some refugee families were able to enroll their children in some Egyptian private schools, notably the “Urman Language Schools.”49 Southern Sudanese Women Refugees in Cairo As noted above, many southern Sudanese women who migrated from Sudan to Egypt in the late 1990s to the beginning of the twenty-first century came either alone or with their children leaving their husbands behind or with their children and husbands. They came to Egypt to apply for the UNHCR with an aim of resettling in a third country, specifically, Canada, the United States of America, and Australia. To support their families, many women joined the informal Egyptian labor market as domestic workers in the homes of some foreign nationals working in Egypt and in wealthy Egyptian homes. Others carry out other income-generating activities such as basket making, knitting, sawing, or selling food. Some who have worked in Sudan as government officials or with NGOs operating in Sudan or former southern students in Egyptian Universities were involved in community and women activism among the refugee community.
INTRODUCTION
13
Southern Sudanese women refugees also faced racial discrimination, sexual harassment, and abuse in the streets of Cairo, in other public spaces, and in their employers’ homes (refer to chapter 8 of this book for details). The phrase “southern Sudanese women refugees” is used here to refer to women who are from the southern region of Sudan. These women, however, do not form a homogeneous group but are differentiated by class, ethnicity, age, religion, language, educational level, and other forms of social difference. The Structure of the Book The book is divided into eight chapters. Chapter 1 seeks to explain the root causes of the “north-south” conflict within the context of Sudan’s official national discourse that emphasizes Arabism and Islamism as defining factors in narrating the country’s national identity. Despite Sudan’s racial, ethnic, religious, linguistic, and cultural diversity, the northern-dominated governments in Sudan pursued the politics of Arabization and Islamization in an effort to project to the outside world a unified Arab and Islamic identity of the country. At the same time it facilitated the excluding, subjugation, and marginalizing of those who resist such dominants. Analyzing the official national discourse set the basis for uncovering the reasons behind massive displacement of people: loss of lives and violation of human rights. This chapter sheds light on the consequences of the (1983–2005) civil war, in terms of infrastructure and social and economic institutions of southern Sudan. The chapter also analyzes the economic and political disparities between the regions of Sudan. Chapter 2 draws on scholarship written by feminist scholars working in the field of refugees and forced migration to the shift in the ways in which women refugee conditions are conceptualized and analyzed. The chapter further provides operational definitions of the key concepts of the book, namely, a refugee, gender, gender relations, exile, race, racism, and ethnicity. The third chapter deals with the conceptual framework of the interlocking and intersecting system of oppression, articulated by African feminists, black feminists, and antiracism theorists within which the experiences of southern Sudanese women refugees are analyzed. Here I analyze the main arguments, points of departure, and emphases, as well as the common assumptions made by these theorists. The usefulness of the intersecting framework is that it treats all forms of social oppression, gender, class, race, ethnicity, and other forms of social difference, simultaneously rather than separate. For example, an integrative antiracism framework that shows how social differences are mediated in people’s experiences allows for the exploration of issues of race, racism, and class, and how they are played out in the
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context of refugee-host relationships. Furthermore, African feminism that invokes the power of Africa women provides insights into women refugees’ struggle for survival in the face of uncertainty and challenges. Chapter 4 focuses on the methodological approaches of the study. It covers such aspects as the approaches used, the implications of, and the difficulties involved in doing research among refugees, issues of power and authority in the relationship between the researcher and the researched, the interview process, and how the data is analyzed. As explained in chapter 4 a qualitative research approach was used to uncover the complexities of the refugees’ situation. An in-depth individual interviewing was used to investigate the lived experiences of women refugees. In addition, a group discussion was employed in conjunction with interviewing with an aim of generating insights and discussions on common themes and issues affecting all refugees—women, men, and children. Some of these themes and issues include, but not limited to, the general impact of exile on the lives of refugees; changes in gender relations within the family and the refugee community at large; issues of marriage, divorce, child custody, refugee status determination process at the UNHCR. The sociocultural institutions and laws governing the southern Sudanese society is the focus of chapter 5. This chapter is divided into two parts. The first part covers a range of issues relating to cultural practices, perceptions, laws, and social institutions that have played and continue to play a significant role in determining the position of women in both the family and the larger society in southern Sudan. Exploration of these issues sets the basis for the analysis of change among southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in exile. The second part of the chapter focuses on the UNHCR’s resettlement program and its impact on many aspects of refugee lives. For example, the impact of the program on the patterns and meanings of marriage and on the institution of the family are analyzed. Chapter 6 focuses on two important issues. First, it addresses the main problems facing southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. These include obstacles to children’s education; young people’s deviation from culturally accepted behavior; housing; problems facing women refugees; cases of rejection and of the closing of files of those who have applied for refugee status determination at the UNHCR; the relevancy of the refugee Identity Card, and how these issues have impacted the lives of the refugees. Identifying these problems and issues is crucial to establishing the basis for understanding how the UNHCR, the IOM, the churches and community organizations address these problems. In other words, such analyses provide an understanding of how effective the strategies and programs used and designed by these institutions are in alleviating some of the refugees’ problems. Second, the chapter focuses on the role of the UNHCR, IOM, the
INTRODUCTION
15
church groups, and the refugee community organizations in dealing with the refugees in Cairo. Thus, it focuses on the objectives, programs, and activities of these institutions, as well as the difficulties they encounter in dealing with the refugees. In chapter 7 I analyze the sociocultural transformations among southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo. Here I explore the forces that led to changes in these women’s perceptions and way of life. These forces include the role reversal that occurred between women and men as a result of circumstances in Cairo, women’s economic independence, women’s newly acquired skills and knowledge, women’s involvement in leadership roles, and women’s organizational work. I look at the influence of all these forces on women’s lives, perceptions, and understanding. The chapter further analyzes the ways in which these women refugees challenge the past, the image of a woman refugee as a victim and dependent, and how they imagine a different future. It further identifies some of the cultural practices and perceptions, which these women refugees are questioning, as well as some of the solutions they suggested for overcoming such practices and perceptions. Issues of race, racism, and ethnicity in a refugee context are the focus of chapter 8. In so doing I focus on three important aspects of the refugee lives: the refugee-host relationships; the relationship between women refugees who serve as domestic workers and their Egyptian women employers; and Egyptians’ attitudes and perceptions toward southern Sudanese women refugees in the streets of Cairo, and how all these affect the refugees. The analysis of these three aspects are situated within the context of the host society’s economic situation, and the social, religious, cultural, and gender ideologies that shape Egyptians’ attitudes toward, and understanding of, outsiders, in particular “black” people. I argue that racial, ethnic, gender, class relations, cultural, and religious aspects interact to influence the host population’s attitude toward Sudanese refugees. The book ends with a conclusion that draws on the study’s main arguments and general findings.
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CHAPTER 1 ROOT CAUSES OF THE “NORTH-SOUTH” CONFLICT IN SUDAN
he Sudan, located in Northeast Africa, is dominated by the Nile and its tributaries and at 2,505,810 square kilometers is the largest country in Africa. Sudan is bordered by nine countries: the Central African Republic, Chad, the Democratic Republic of Congo (former Zaire), Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Libya, and Uganda. Sudan can be divided into three general climatic regions: a desert area in the north, a semiarid central belt with increasing amounts of rainfall to the south, and a southern tropical rainy region.1 The natural resources of the country include petroleum, small reserves of iron ore, copper, chromium ore, zinc, tungsten mica, silver, and gold.2 Despite its racial, ethnic, and cultural diversity, geopolitically, Sudan is regarded first as an Arab nation. I remember in my first history class, the first sentence in the textbook entitled Mukhtasar tarikh al-Sudan al-hadith (A Brief History of Modern Sudan) clearly stated that “Sudan is part and partial of the Arab world.”3 As part of the Arab world, Sudan became a member of the League of Arab states after its independence in 1956. This geopolitical position represents one of the main causes of the conflict in the Sudan as it raises the issue of the Sudan’s national identity. Sudan is also part of the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), which is comprised of Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia, and Uganda. The Sudan, with its various peoples, languages, cultures, and religions, is often considered a microcosm of the whole African continent.4 Based on the 1999 census, Sudan has a population of about 34 million people.5 They consist mainly of a large number of heterogeneous people of diverse, ethnic, racial, and linguistic groups. According to the literature on Sudan, there are more than 500 ethnic groups in Sudan, speaking more than a hundred languages.6 The people of Sudan adhere to Islam, indigenous
T
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African beliefs and Christianity. Approximately 70 percent are Sunni Muslims (mainly in the north, east, and western Sudan). Few Muslims are also found in southern Sudan. Some 25 percent of Sudanese practice indigenous beliefs and 5 percent are Christians (mainly in southern Sudan and the city of Khartoum). Arabic is the national and official language of the country, and English is also used as an official language, particularly in the south. About 80 percent of the Sudanese people participate in the country’s major economic activity, which is agriculture and animal husbandry. As is true of Sudan as a whole, the people of southern Sudan also consist of diverse ethnic and linguistic groupings. According to Simon E. Kulusika, “there are 7 million people in the south.”7 Southern Sudanese can be classified into agriculturalists who live in Equatoria and parts of Bahr al-Ghazal provinces, and seminomadic pastoralists or cattle keepers, who are mostly the Nilotics in Bahr al-Ghazal and Upper Nile provinces. The former include among many the Bari-speaking group, the Latuko or Otuho, Didinga, Azande, Bongo, Moro, Ma’di, and Krej. The latter include the Nilots, such as the Dinka, Nuer, and Shilluk. The Dinka is regarded as the largest ethnic group in the south.8 Although southern Sudanese come from different ethnic groups and speak numerous languages, still, they share some common cultural practices, values, and similar experiences of oppression, marginalization, and discrimination (see chapter 5 of this book). Southern Sudanese adhere to indigenous African beliefs, Christianity, and Islam (particularly in urban areas). Due to the rapid spread of Christianity in the south over the years, many southern Sudanese converted to Christianity, thus making it a dominant religious belief system. Geographically, Sudan is divided into eastern, western, northern, and southern regions. The southern region, which is the focus of this study, is comprised of three provinces: Bahr al-Ghazal, Upper Nile, and Equatoria, “in accordance with their boundaries as they stood on January 1, 1956.”9 These provinces were administered as one political entity referred to as “Southern Sudan Regional Government,” with a People’s Regional Assembly and a High Executive Council as stipulated in the 1972 Addis Ababa Agreement reached between the SSLM representatives and the Sudan government of General Jaafar M. Nimeiri (1969–1985).10 However, with the shifting political situations and systems in the country, the southern region has undergone several changes. First of all, due to the Sudan central government’s intentions to control the south, coupled with the ethnic and personal rivalries between and among southern Sudanese political leaders, the southern region was redivided in 1983 into three separate administrative entities corresponding to the previous provinces.11
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Second, when the NIF government came to power by a military coup in 1989, the country’s regions were reconstituted into several administrative states, locally referred to as wilayat (singular—wilayah), governed by walis or governors. Currently, there are ten states in the southern region: Upper Nile, Unity, Jonglei, Warap, Northern Bahr al-Ghazal, Western Bahr al-Ghazal, Lakes, Eastern Equatoria, Central Equatoria, and Western Equatoria. The new states are also reconstituted along the ethnic groups that inhabit the areas. However, both the current NIF government of General Muhammad Omar el Bashir and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement and Army (SPLM/A) have different interpretations regarding what constitutes the southern region. On the one hand, the government of Sudan sees the southern region as consisting of the three provinces as they were defined on January 1, 1956, when Sudan gained its independence from the British. On the other hand, the SPLM/A leadership views the south as encompassing the three provinces, plus the Nuba Mountains, the southern Blue Nile, and the Abyei provinces. This understanding is based on the SPLM/A leadership’s conviction that these additional areas share with the south the common experience of oppression and marginalization by the central government. Also, the people of these provinces, in alliance with the SPLM/A, fought for the liberation of Sudan from injustice, discrimination, and marginalization during the second civil war, 1983–2005. However, for the majority of ordinary southern Sudanese, the south remains the three provinces as outlined above. These different interpretations and contestations as to what constitute the southern region will continue to dominate the political discussion for a long time. Root Causes of the “North-South” Conflict The “north-south” conflict in Sudan has attracted many scholars, academics, journalists, and human rights activists, both Sudanese and Sudanists.12 The debate on the root causes of Sudan’s “north-south” conflict clearly indicates that Sudanese and Sudanist scholars seem to differ slightly as to what constitutes the root cause of the conflict in Sudan. These differences revolved around points of emphasis and priority. In other words, what are the most important factors that led to the civil war and political instability in Sudan? Many Sudanese scholars particularly from the south tend to emphasize identity issues around race, ethnicity, religion, and economic deprivation, unequal distribution of natural resources and political power as the main causes of continuous conflict between north and south.13 According to Dunstan Wai, the north-south conflict in Sudan dates back to the precolonial periods. He argues that the conflict between the two groups results from
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historical roots as well as from cultural, racial, and economic antagonisms leading to distrust and desire for secession.14 Furthermore, the southern people’s experiences with Arab Muslim slave traders and raiders (Egyptians and northern Sudanese) during the Turko-Egyptian rule in Sudan (1821– 1885), the Mahadist state (1885–1898), the Anglo-Egyptian Condominium in Sudan (1898–1956), and the brutal ways in which Islam and the Arabic language have been introduced in the south represent the bases for continuous conflict in Sudan. For Oliver Albino “[r]acial differences constitute the root of the problems which beset the Sudan.”15 Other scholars, mainly northern Sudanese, tend to blame cultural, economic factors, and British colonial policies toward the south for contributing to the unfriendly relations between the north and the south.16 For instance, Gamal M. Hamid, like many northern Sudanese scholars, dismisses the racial and religious factors of the conflict in Sudan as simplistic. Instead, Hamid attributes the root cause of the conflict to the following four factors: (i) Weak national sentiments between heterogeneous peoples, who share the same territory, yet have little in common in terms of a common culture or history. (ii) bitter memories of a distant past marred by human enslavement in which various people from the north, the south and from outside the Sudan participated; (iii) a series of mistrustful acts, un-kept promises, and dishonored agreements between the North and the South which have precipitated a deep sense of mistrust between southerners and northerners, and (iv) colonial policies and other historical forces that facilitated domination of the economy and the state apparatus by northern elites, who used it to perpetuate the subordinate position of the South vis-à-vis the North. The end result of this situation has been lack of socio-economic development in the south.17
Drawing from the above quotation, it is clear that racial and religious factors are not regarded as root causes of the conflict. And although I agree partly with Hamid’s analysis of the root causes of the “north-south” conflict, he, however, stopped short of explaining other reasons behind the weak national sentiments, apart from the heterogeneity of the Sudanese people. From my point of view, in addition to the heterogeneity of the Sudanese people, another reason for the existence of weak national sentiments, especially on the part of the southern Sudanese and other marginalized people in Sudan, can also be attributed to the fact that their experiences, and histories, were, and continue to be, excluded, and marginalized from the official national discourse of the country that emphasize Arab and Islamic culture. This exclusion is evident, for example, in the absence of southern Sudanese social and political history, geography, and sociocultural
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21
experiences in Sudan’s national educational curriculum, which prefers Arab Islamic history, culture, and geography. On the issue of slavery and slave trade during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, many northern Sudanese scholars tend to emphasize the role of southern Sudanese (i.e., chiefs) in perpetuating the slave trade, without acknowledging the circumstances under which those southern Sudanese chiefs operated and were subjected to. For example, slave traders who were mainly Egyptians and northern Sudanese deployed soldiers armed with rifles and firearms to raid southern villages in their attempt to secure slaves.18 In the process, southern chiefs were compelled to provide these raiders with slaves to avoid further confrontation. Similarly, many northern Sudanese scholars emphasize the British colonial administration’s policy of “divide and rule” as a major contributing factor to the separation and worsening of relationships between the north and the south, as well as the underdevelopment of the south.19 For example, the most criticized British colonial policy is the “Southern Policy” of 1930–1947, which allowed the south to be administered separately from the north.20 The “Southern Policy” was intended to prevent the south from being influenced by Arab culture and religion, at the same time allowing the British to spread Christianity. According to the “Southern Policy,” northern Sudanese were not allowed to travel or live in the south without obtaining a special permit from the British authority. Also English rather than Arabic, was taught in southern schools.21 However, with pressure from the northern nationalists during that period, as well as from Britain and Egypt, the two colonial powers in Sudan, the British abandoned the “Southern Policy” in 1947 and decided to merge southern Sudan with the north by creating a unified administrative system for the whole country.22 As a result, by emphasizing the role of British rule in widening the gap between the north and the south and in the underdevelopment of the south, these scholars ignored the equal role of the successive northern-dominated governments in oppressing and marginalizing the south through economic marginalization and the imposition of exclusive national identity in the country. Furthermore, other Sudanese scholars reject the conventional understanding of the root causes of the conflict that emphasized deep-seated hatred, ethnic loyalties, and cultural differences. They further reject the understanding of the war in Sudan as a war between north-south, AfricanArab, or Christian-Muslims as simplistic. Instead they see the conflicts and political instability as a result of the racialization and the ethnicization of the state in Sudan. Amir Idris argue that “[i]t is the racialized state that transformed cultural identities into political identities through the practice of slavery in the precolonial period, indirect rule during the colonial period
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and an exclusive policy of citizenship in the postcolonial period.”23 Many Sudanists mainly from the West tend to emphasize religion and unequal distribution of resources and political power leading to the underdevelopment of the south as major aspects of the Sudanese conflict.24 Despite the differences placed on points of departure and emphasis as to what constitutes the root cause of the “north-south” conflict in Sudan, one can argue that all the factors outlined by Sudanese and Sudanists scholars represent some of the most important factors that led to the outbreak of the 1983 conflict in Sudan. In addition, the politics of exclusion and inclusion along ethnic, racial, regional, linguistic, and religious lines played, and continue to play, a devastating role in fragmenting the Sudanese people leading to further conflicts and instability of the country. The Darfur conflict, which erupted in February 2003, is a case in point. Furthermore, the imposition of a particular national identity based on Arab and Islamic ideologies on a racially, ethnically, and religiously diverse people represents an important factor in the “north-south” conflict. The Forging of a “Unified” National Identity Historically, Sudan is divided into two opposing dichotomies of north and south.25 The north is defined as Arab and Islamic, whereas the south is considered African, “animist,” and Christian. Given the fact that the above distinction revolves around racial, ethnic, and religious identities, analyzing these identity issues become especially important because they represent some of the contentious issues in the conflict and in the relationship between the Sudanese people, in general, and the relations between the north and the south, in particular. Identity here is seen in terms of how the Sudanese nation is narrated, and how the Sudanese people identify themselves and are identified by others. In other words, how should the Sudanese identify themselves? What is the national identity of Sudan? What cultural, social, and racial aspects are evoked in the process of narrating the nation? What measures were/are taken to insure the promotion and sustainability of the emerging national identity? In an attempt to address these questions of the Sudanese national identity, I focus on Sudan’s nationalist discourse with respect to this complex issue, which has become what many Sudanese scholars refer to as an “identity crisis.”26 According to Francis Deng, “northern Sudanese see themselves as Arabs and deny the strongly African element in their skin color and physical features. This denial of the African element is grounded on their perception and association of these features with the Negroid race and see it as the mother race of slaves, inferior and demeaned.”27 On the other hand, southern Sudanese view themselves as Africans and as people with cultural and
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moral values at the same time perceiving the northern Sudanese as people who are confused and have no origin.28 Therefore, identity within this context is viewed as “a function of how people identify themselves and are identified in race, ethnicity, culture, language and religion and how such identification determines or influence their participation in the political, economic, social and cultural life of their country.”29 In this quest to define oneself and the national identity, the most controversial issues revolve around the questions of language, religion, race, and ethnicity. In the following pages I present an analysis of how these contested and opposing identities of the Arab and the African are articulated and maintained within the context of the official national narrative. Here I draw on two important aspects, namely, the forging of a national identity based on Arabism and Islamism, and the place of women in the nationalist discourse. Narrating the Nation Edward Said, in his analysis of nationalism and its relation to exile, defined nationalism as “an assertion of belonging in and to a place, a people, a heritage. It affirms the home created by a community of language, culture and customs.”30 The assertion of belonging in and to a particular place did not, however, emerge from a vacuum. Instead, it is informed and shaped by a particular interpretation of history, culture, and the myth of origin. As Benedict Anderson suggests, “nationalism has to be understood, by aligning it not with self-consciously held political ideologies, but with the large cultural system that preceded it.”31 Anderson went on to argue that “nationality, or . . . nationness, as well as nationalism, are cultural artefacts of a particular kind. To understand them properly we need to consider carefully how they have come into historical being, in what ways their meanings have changed over time, and why today, they command such profound emotional legitimacy.”32 Following Anderson’s analysis, and the fact that in the process of imagining the nation, nationalists usually draw on particular histories, culture, origin, and ideology, the forging of a national identity tends to be exclusionary in nature. For example, given the heterogeneity of the people who inhabit a particular territory such as Sudan, the interpretation of nationalism solely from a particular history, culture, and ideology, that is Arab and Islamic culture, might not appeal to all. Therefore, those who feel they do not belong might opt to assert their own sense of belonging, which is also informed by their own understanding of history, value systems, and experiences. Nationalism in Sudan was and is closely linked to the pan-Arab and the Arab nationalist movements of the first half of the twentieth century.33
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According to James Gatkouth, “nationalism [in Sudan] is ultimately a particularized form of ideology: it defines cultural and social boundaries on behalf of a community and exclude those who cannot fit in.”34 As Amir Idris notes, in the early 1920s, “the question of race and descent became very significant in determining the course of Sudanese nationalism.”35 Idris went on further to argue that “[t]he nationalist narrative of the 1930s had created for itself a genealogy that stretches far into the Islamic Arab past. It suggested a primordial and essential identity shared by all those who lived in the north regardless of their particular historical experiences and affiliations.”36 As a result, the successive northern-dominated governments in Sudan have insisted on Arabism and Islamism as the defining elements of Sudan’s national identity.37 This insistence on Arabism and Islamism as defining factors in narrating the nation is clearly stated in Sudan’s permanent constitution of 1973. For instance, article 16[a] of the 1973 constitution stipulates that “in the Democratic Republic of the Sudan, Islam is the religion and the society shall be guided by Islam, being the religion of the majority of its peoples and the State shall endeavor to express its values.” The same article further states that “Islamic law and custom shall be the main sources of legislation while personal matters of non-Muslims shall be governed by their personal laws.”38 In this context, Arabic language, history, culture, Islamic religion, as well as the myth of Arab ancestry, are used to justify claims of inclusion and exclusion of groups in the emerging nation. In the process of forging a “unified” national identity, several measures were/are deployed to insure its success. These measures range from exclusionary practices, integration or assimilation of the other, subjugation of kinds of knowledge and history that are deemed incompatible with the idea of the national culture and identity, coercion to conform or elimination of those who do not conform or resist such ideas. For instance, since Sudan’s independence in 1956, one of the measures used to narrate the nation was/ is the process of Islamization and Arabization of the southern Sudanese, a process that did not begin after independence. Rather, it dates back to the period of the Mahadist state (1885–1898) in Sudan. The Mahadist state was “an Islamic state fashioned to revive the concept and practice of the early Islamic community of [prophet] Muhammad and his companions.”39 The northern Sudanese nationalists assumed that the southern Sudan was a “cultural vacuum,” which needed to be filled by Arab culture under an Islamic revival.40 Toward the end of nationalization of government institutions along Arab and Islamic line, in the period between the 1950s and the 1970s, the northern-based nationalists targeted the educational system as a structure through which Islamization and Arabization of the south could take place.
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During this period, an integrated educational policy was designed for the whole of Sudan, replacing the separate educational and administrative systems constituted by the British.41 This new educational policy was accelerated during General Ibrahim Abboud’s military regime (1958–1964) through the process of the enforced spread of Islamic education, conversion, and the promotion of the Arabic language as the national language at the expense of local languages spoken in the south.42 Among the measures taken to accelerate this process during this period was the nationalization of the missionaries’ schools, the expulsion of foreign missionaries from the south, and the change of the day of rest from Sunday to Friday in accordance with Islamic religious practice.43 All these developments triggered resistance from the southern Sudanese a situation that partly contributed to the uprising and outbreak of Sudan’s first civil war (1955–1972).44 In some parts of southern Sudan, particularly in urban areas, during this period also, school-age children were given Arabic names replacing their traditional and/or Christian names, to enable them to enroll in schools and to comply with the policies of Arabization as well.45 Therefore, it is common among southern Sudanese for one person to have three different names: traditional, Arabic, and “Christian or Baptism name.” The last can be either a European name or a name from the Bible. Similarly, the imposition of the Islamic Shari’a or law becomes a prerequisite for imagining the nation. For example, during the military regime of General Jaafer M. Nimieri (1969–1985), further steps were taken to reconsolidate the Islamic Shari’a in the Sudan. During this period several Islamic-oriented projects aimed at accelerating the spread of Islam and Arab culture in the south were designed and implemented: “Arab-funded projects such as the Islamic African Center, [and] the Islamic African Relief Agency, which were designed to help African Muslims” were/are operating in the south.46 A more radical move taken for the enforcement of the Islamic Shari’a was the amalgamation of the formally “autonomous [Sudan’s] Civil and Shari’a courts systems into a single Judicial hierarchy” in 1980.47 Subsequently, in September 1983, the Islamic Shari’a was proclaimed by President Jaafar M. Nimeiri to be the sole guiding force behind the laws of Sudan. As a result, certain measures were taken relating to punishment of crimes to ensure the enforcement of the new laws. For example, such measures as “amputation for proven theft . . . the death penalty for adultery . . . and the Islamic punishment of flogging for drinking, or for the possession, sale or transport or manufacture of alcoholic beverages,” were introduced.48 Although in theory the Islamic Shari’a should apply only to Muslims in Sudan, in real life, it has affected and continues to affect non-Muslims as well, especially those living in Khartoum and other northern cities as well.
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The measures taken to Arabize and Islamize the non-Muslims and nonArabs have become increasingly aggressive, particularly when the NIF regime seized power in a military coup in 1989. The main agenda of the new government is to establish an Islamic identity for the Sudanese nation, whereby both the constitution and the law would be based solely on the Qura’n and the Sunna.49 Like its predecessors, the NIF regime targeted the educational system at all levels to accelerate the Arabization and Islamization of the country. For example, in the period between 1990 and 1991 Arabic language became the medium of instruction in almost all universities in the country, replacing the English language which had been in use since the British colonial rule. Similarly, all primary, junior, and senior secondary schools were changed from English to Arabic.50 Also, new students enrolled in universities and other higher institutions of learning during this period were/are required to undergo militia training as members of the Popular Defence Forces (PDF) before starting their studies.51 As a result, “registration for universities was moved from the campuses to the militia camps.”52 This requirement was crucial for the NIF government in its efforts to persecute the war in the south, as the new recruits are deployed after training to reinforce the government forces in the war front. All these measure have negatively affected both students and instructors mainly from the south who use English exclusively as a medium of instruction. The switch to Arabic further led to school closures in the Equatoria region in the south in mid-1991 to early 1992, as students protested the change.53 With the absence of well-trained and qualified Arabic teachers and the lack of Arabic textbooks in the south, learning the Arabic language has become extremely difficult for a student educated in English.54 Similarly, the compulsory militia training and eventual deployment to the south has forced many southern Sudanese students to avoid enrolment in a university. Drawing on the above discussions, one can maintain that the processes of Islamization and Arabization with all their measures of enforcement have sought to suppress the different languages, cultures, histories, and religious practices of the non-Arab and non-Muslim groups in Sudan. These processes together with systemic exclusion further reduced the presence of southern Sudanese students and faculty in Sudan’s institutions of higher learning. On the other hand, rape, forced marriage, and forced prostitution represent other violent measures through which non-Muslims and non-Arabs are subjugated. For example, during my stay in Juba city, in southern Sudan in the late 1980s to the early 1990s, I observed an increasing number of young southern Sudanese women who have become the wives of, or have borne children to, northern Sudanese soldiers stationed in and around the areas of Juba.55 Worth noting is that the relationship between
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these women and the soldiers did not occur either in a peaceful way or in accordance with the culturally accepted ways of how marriage is conducted in the south. The women were either forced into such relationships or were raped. Given the situation in the south in general, and in Juba in particular—insecurity, economic hardships, and military rule—during the war, the parents or members of the extended families of these women were unable to prevent such actions, out of fear for their own lives. Worse still is the fact that, upon completion of their mission in the south, some of these soldiers return to the north leaving behind these women and their children to fend for themselves. This situation has led to an increase in the number of women who resorted to prostitution in order to support themselves and their children. According to the 1992 Human Rights Report, of the US State Department, “[t]he Sudanese Army was identified with numerous human rights abuses, including many civilian deaths . . . extrajudicial executions, forced conscription, rape and pillage.”56 Furthermore, the Near East Report (1993) notes that “government forces, especially the Popular Defence Forces . . . are said to routinely steal women and children. Some women and girls are kept as wives; the others are shipped north, where they perform forced labor on farms or are exported, notably to Libya.”57 Pointing out the actions of the government forces and militia does not imply that rebel forces, who were fighting in southern Sudan during the longest civil war in Africa, were free of human rights violations. On the contrary, both parties to the war in Sudan have engaged in one way or another in human rights abuses against the civilian population. For instance, in his chapter “South Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” Girma Kebbede outlined how both the government and the rebel forces have contributed to the suffering of the civilian population in the south, through forced conscription of young boys, especially by the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), and the destruction of people’s livelihood. According to him, “[b]oth the government and the SPLM/A have little or no concern for the rights of civilians . . . [that] the SPLM/A has also attacked . . . the Mundari, Didinga, the Murle, and the Bari [ethnic groups in the south], for instance, for their neutrality or lack of support” for the liberation movement.58 Women suffer additional abuses as well. For example, many young women in the SPLM/A-controlled areas in the south have fallen victim to forced relationships with the rebel soldiers. Similarly, some married women have experienced domestic violence and abuse at the hands of their husbands. In his study of the experience of women in the western Dinka area, Jok M. Jok noted that “nearly 80% of the sample women [he interviewed] reported having been battered several times throughout their marriage life for reasons related to refusal of sexual
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services. Many cases of domestic abuse which took place at night were witnessed.”59 On another level, and as indicated earlier, the histories, experiences, voices, and the intellectual contributions of the non-Arab and non-Muslim people in Sudan were/are excluded from the official national discourse. This exclusion is evident in their absence from the educational curriculum and public media in particular. For instance, southern Sudanese children were/are taught about Arab history and literature, the desert, and animals, such as the camel, which are not relevant to their experiences and the local situation and environment in the south. Nothing is taught about such animals as the goat, the buffalo the elephant, or the rabbit that are common in the south. This exclusion is necessary for the successive northern-based governments to be able to justify their assertion that Sudan has a unified Arab and Islamic identity. As Edward Said has clearly pointed out, “the power to narrate, or to block other narratives from forming or emerging is a crucial method by which imperialists impose their powerful all conquering value system.”60 Therefore, to retain control and disseminate Arabism and Islamism, the northern nationalists and the successive northern-dominated governments have pursued the strategy of control and/or elimination of the narratives and voices of non-Muslims and non-Arabs to ensure the imagined national cohesion, unity, and stability. Women and the National Project In the process of nation making, women also play a crucial role in the process of constituting and reconstituting the nationalists’ ideologies. As noted by F. Anthias and N. Yuval-Davis, “women have additional important roles in the construction and reproduction of nationalist ideologies. By dressing and behaving ‘properly’, and by giving birth to children within legitimate marriages, they both signify and reproduce the symbolic and legal boundaries of the collectivity.”61 As explained in the above passage, in Sudan, the position of women in the nationalist project was/is shaped by the ideology of a nationally unified culture and identity, an ideology that finds the unifying principles in Arab culture and the Islamic religion. Similarly, the al mara’h al Sudaniyah, or the “Sudanese woman” in this nationalist discourse, is constructed in opposition to the non-Muslim and non-Arab woman. For instance, adherence to Islamic teachings, “modesty” and compliance with the Islamic Shari’a in all aspects of peoples’ lives represents the social and moral principles through which women are located within the Sudan’s nationalist discourse. Since the NIF came to power in 1989, such moral principles have been rigorously applied. Laws governing women’s conduct and behavior both
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within the family and the larger society are formulated specifically to regulate women’s conduct, roles, and lives. For example, such laws as the Law Governing Public Conduct for the Central State (1992), and the Law Governing Public Order for El-Khartoum State (1991) were formulated. These laws are mainly intended to regulate women’s as well as men’s conduct and behavior, particularly in public spaces. One of the provisions of these laws concerns the wearing of an Islamic dress code or al ziyy al-Islami (long skirt/dress, long sleeved blouse, and head cover) for all working women, and for all women who happen to be in public places, like the market, public transport, government offices, or parks. In such spaces, women are required to express in their conduct and appearance the moral and spiritual qualities that are regarded as characteristics of an Islamic people and state. For example, section 5(1) of the Law Governing Public Conduct for the Central State (1992: 3) stipulates that “[a]ny Muslim woman walking in the street or appearing in a work place or any public place without an Islamic dress will be punished by flogging and the payment of the sum of five hundred Sudanese pounds.”62 Though intended for Muslim women only, these laws affect nonMuslim women who lived or continue to live in Khartoum and other northern cities as well. Thus, non-Muslim female students and displaced women working in public offices in the north, and in Khartoum in particular are forced to wear Islamic dress on the grounds of “modesty”. Women are flogged or threatened with dismissal from their jobs for not conforming to the government’s idea of what constitutes decent dress.63 This is how a respondent I interviewed in Cairo relates her experience with the dress code imposed on all women in Khartoum: One day my sister and I were arrested by the security men who told us that we were wearing short dresses in the college premises. The security car took us to Al Nizam al-A’m [the Public Order] office. They [the security men] asked us why we are dressed like that. I answered that this is how I dress since I was born. I found all my relatives are dressed like this, so there is no reason that will let me not to dress like this. They said no, and I told them that I am not a Muslim. At the end we were flagged 30 lashes each. After that they [security men] said, “from now on you have to dress al-ziyy al-Islami,” and that was what I did. That is, long dress with long sleeves and head cover.64
Furthermore, a woman’s ability to move freely especially when traveling abroad is also restricted and controlled. For example, if a woman wants to travel abroad, she must be accompanied by a male relative if she is not married or by her husband if she is married. If traveling alone, the woman must obtain an authorization from her husband or a male relative to allow her to get exit visa from the Sudan immigration authorities to enable her to
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travel.65 All these measures apply to both Muslim and non-Muslim women. The Sudan nationalist discourse on women, thus, places a particular group of women in a privileged position. Such privileging in turn tends to exclude or marginalize those women who are racially, ethnically, culturally, and religiously different, or who do not fit the definition of ideal woman in the nationalist discourse. Therefore, it can be concluded that granting a privileged position to Arab and Islamic women of the country has contributed to the marginalization of other indigenous women’s identities and to the denial of their development and recognition. Economic and Political Disparities Underdevelopment, economic disparities, and unequal sharing of political power represent other seeds of the conflict in Sudan. Social and economic development in Sudan has been characterized by wide regional disparities. In other words, economic as well as political power have been, and continue to be, concentrated in the center, whereas the rest of the country is marginalized both economically and politically.66 As far as the south is concerned, the successive regimes in Sudan since the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries had neglected the development of the southern region. Instead, they were/are concerned about exploiting its natural and human resources. For example, the Turko-Egyptian rulers in Sudan were interested in exploiting its wealth, especially its gold, ivory, and slaves.67 Similarly, the British-Egyptian colonial powers who saw no immediate economic interest in southern Sudan were not interested in the development of the south. However, one of the reasons they wanted to hold onto the south was to secure the Nile that flows through it, and to carry out their “civilizing mission.”68 As a result of this neglect, coupled with the Islamization and Arabization policies pursued by the successive northern-dominated governments after independence, which led to armed conflict and instability, the southern region has remained far behind in terms of social infrastructure, trade, industry, and the development of other economic and financial institutions. Analyzing the factors that contributed to the underdevelopment of the south since independence, B. Yongo-Bure notes that “weak physical infrastructure, absence of a financial infrastructure and inadequate manpower” represent some of the factors that led to the underdevelopment of the south.69 The exploitation of southern Sudan’s natural resources and economic potential did not stop after the departure of the colonial powers, but continued. The successive governments in Sudan established a mechanism for
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controlling the southern Sudan economy. Although the south was given regional self-government after the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972, southern political leaders were nevertheless striped of their power to decide on important economic issues affecting the region. Decisions regarding planning and budgeting of economic projects remain the responsibility of the central government. The situation is further aggravated by the discovery and exploration of oil in the south in the late 1980s. Since the government controls the oil production as well as benefits from its profits, the southern Sudanese were/are left out. Many are also displaced from their homelands to make way for further exploration of oil in their areas. Besides economic control and exploitation, the northern-dominated governments also control the political power in the country. For instance, decisions on issues pertaining to “defence, foreign affairs, currency, interregional communications, and the broad functions of economic, social and educational planning” are the responsibility of the central government in Khartoum.70 In other words, the central government decides who should be in charge of education, planning, and administration, and of setting and distributing the national budget. As a result, southern Sudanese and other marginalized people in Sudan are either excluded or relegated to noninfluential positions in the political structure. For example, as an Islamic state, a nonMuslim is not allowed to become a president of the state on the grounds that an Islamic state and Muslims should not be ruled by a non-Muslim.71 Therefore, it is against this background that southern Sudanese have resisted and continue to resist Arab domination and economic exploitation. Southern resistance to Arab domination was/is expressed in several ways. Defining themselves as Africans and the conviction that the south is not part of the Arab world, many southern Sudanese view northern Sudanese intentions as another form of Arab imperialism. This in turn led southern Sudanese to assert their identity as African to counter the hegemonic Arab identity. Africanness in the southern Sudan context encompasses racial, ethnic, and cultural factors as well as territorial or geographical location. As Francis Deng argues, in the Sudan “the more the north asserts its Arabness the more the south asserts Africanness as a counter identity.”72 This assertion can be best illustrated by an example from my personal experience in two United Nations conferences (ICPD 1994 and WCW 1995) NGO Forums.73 In such forums, participants are usually divided along regional lines to facilitate the discussion of issues that are of concern to them. The Sudanese participants always face the dilemma of whether the Sudan is an Arab or an African country. What happens in such a situation is the division of the Sudanese participants into two groups: northern Sudanese preferring to join the Middle East region and southern Sudanese often joining the East African region. In these regions the Sudanese find themselves
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marginalized further, as many of the issues discussed are not directly relevant to their experiences and realities either in Sudan or in exile. Though resisting militarily, southern Sudanese were simultaneously constructing their own national identity based on their shared experiences of war, oppression, and displacement, as well as in their common cultural practices, origins, and way of life. In the process of forging such a national identity, both men and women are expected to play important roles that will enhance the southern identity. Although men were fighting the war at the front, women were/are also expected to play specific roles, which will facilitate the process of the emerging identity. For example, within the context of civil war, instability, and displacement, women’s assumed role as guardians of the southern Sudanese cultural identity and traditions is emphasized. As Jok M. Jok notes in his study of the “emerging southern nationalism,” “[n]ewly established women’s organizations under the civil administration of the SPLA were involved in forging a women’s role in the national struggle through being held responsible for guarding the Dinka cultural identity.”74 Although some southern Sudanese women have joined the liberation movement as combatants, they are usually relegated to domestic roles, such as cooking, caring for the wounded, and so forth.75 As “guardians of culture and traditions,” women are expected to transmit southern Sudanese cultures, languages, and traditional values to the younger generations. This view is widely held by southern Sudanese both inside and outside of Sudan. Community leaders and other members of the refugee community in Cairo, for example, often refer to what women are supposed to do by raising their children in accordance with the accepted cultural practices and traditions of the south. As many women refugees tend to work outside the home to earn income for the support of their families, their absence from home is often blamed for their children’s misconduct. Similarly, as many southern Sudanese have died due to war-related causes, women’s reproductive roles have become very important under the emerging national identity. For example, young men and women are encouraged to marry and bear as many children as they can in order to compensate for the loss of many southern Sudanese lives in the civil war. At the same time, those southern Sudanese, who are in exile, are seen as the “seeds” of the south by those who are left behind. Viewed as seeds, they are often encouraged both to procreate and to get education and skills that would be deployed in the development of the future southern Sudan. For instance, during my interviews with refugees in Cairo, many participants concluded their interviews with a word of advice to be conveyed to those southern Sudanese who are resettled in North America. The most recurring advice was that southern Sudanese living in the diaspora should
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not forget about the problem that forced them out of Sudan, but to try to understand it, and to stand united against the injustices in Sudan. People in the diaspora are also encouraged to maintain their families, acquire education and technical skills, which will then benefit southern Sudan. They are also encouraged to extend financial support to the liberation movement. Similar advice and encouragement are often echoed by some southern Sudanese who happen to visit Canada or the United States and meet with southern Sudanese residents in North America. The Effects of the Civil War on Southern Sudan The two civil wars of 1955–1972 and 1983–2005 have had devastating consequences in Sudan, in general, and in southern Sudan, in particular. The war has led to massive displacement and death of millions of people and to the destruction of the infrastructure and the social, cultural, and economic fabric of the southern Sudanese society. During the war the existing infrastructure in southern Sudan has been destroyed leading to economic crisis and the spread of disease. For example, the few medical facilities that existed in the south have either been destroyed or are lacking sufficient medical supplies and equipment. Lack of medical facilities and medicine, poor sanitation, and malnutrition have further led to the spread of such diseases as sleeping sickness, sexually transmitted diseases, tuberculosis, and other respiratory diseases, which could have been prevented, particularly in the rural areas. As noted by Girma Kebbede, “[t]he war has made it impossible to distribute medicine against river blindness and vaccination for measles and polio.”76 Furthermore, the prevalence of land mines planted by both the government and the SPLM/A, particularly around the principal towns of Juba, Wau, Bor, Torit, and Kapoeta have claimed the lives of many civilians.77 In Juba, for example, where people depended largely on firewood as a source of cooking fuel, many women were killed by land mines planted by the government forces around the city, intended to prevent rebel forces’ penetration into the city. Furthermore, the war had negatively affected the educational system in southern Sudan. For example, from the late 1980s through the 1990s, many schools and other institutions of higher learning in the south ceased to function as the war intensified. This is particularly true in the rural areas. In towns, where many displaced people had taken refuge, many schools were temporarily occupied by the displaced people before they were relocated to displaced people’s camps constructed by some international agencies operating in the south.78 Similarly, because of this insecurity the University of Juba, the only university in the south at Juba, was transferred
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to Khartoum in 1987. The university campus, as well as the faculty and student residences, were then occupied by the Sudan government’s army and the PDFs. Furthermore, due to insecurity and lack of proper education in the south, many secondary school students migrated north in search of education and security. This situation led to the establishment of special schools for the displaced in Khartoum in the early 1990s because the existing public schools in Khartoum could not absorb all the displaced students. According to Stephen Wol, “[b]y the beginning of the 1990–1991 academic year, there were ten special secondary schools for displaced southern students” based in Khartoum.79 However, these schools lack basic educational requirements, such as textbooks, desks, science laboratories, chairs, and so on. As space was limited in these schools, classes were often overcrowded. Similarly, the living conditions of the displaced students were very difficult because most of them live in the slums of Khartoum. Therefore, given their conditions, both in Khartoum and in the south, students’ performance in school is constrained.80 This situation has further worsened the enrolment of southern Sudanese students at institutions of higher learning. For example, “in 1987, the share of the south in the total population of the country was 28.7 percent, but its share in student placements in higher education was a mere one-tenth of one percent.”81 Therefore, as Simon Kulusika clearly notes, “[s]ince the out break of the civil war in 1983, basic infrastructure in the south has been utterly devastated including schools.”82 The implication of such a situation for the southern Sudanese people, in general, and women, in particular, has been devastating. As far as women are concerned, many school-age girls ended up with unwanted pregnancies and uncertain marriages, either to members of the government or to members of the rebel forces. Similarly, youth of both sexes, because of frustration and uncertain future, have resorted to heavy alcohol consumption and to other kinds of unacceptable behavior, such as shaming or lack of respect for elders and inferring prostitution. In addition, as many people have died during the war there were in existence a large number of widows, orphans, and unaccompanied minors, particularly in the SPLM/A-held areas, and in some refugee camps in Northern Uganda and Kenya. Most of the orphans, for example, were/are, cared for by women.83 The war has also affected marriage and the institution of family in southern Sudan leading to changes in the family structure, and an increase in the number of teenage single parents, both inside Sudan and in the refugee camps in the neighboring countries. In July 1997, during a fieldwork study I carried out in some refugee camps in Northern Uganda and in Yei town, which was under the SPLM/A control then, I found that there was an increasing number of children who are cared for either by a
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teenage mother or by a grandmother. The father is either at the war front, has been killed, or has just left. Furthermore, as many men have migrated from rural areas to towns, and some are fighting at the war front, many women have become the heads of household, shouldering all the responsibilities in the family. However, despite their efforts, their contribution is usually ignored.84 The war has further affected the system of production and the means of livelihood in the south, leading to famines and economic difficulties, which greatly affected people’s lives. Those who practice agriculture, for example, were unable to effectively work the land because of the constant movement of people from one village to another due to fighting or because of the prevalence of land mines in their lands.85 As a result, southern Sudanese, in general, and women and their children, in particular, in both the rural and urban areas of the south, have been reduced to a relative state of dependency on the international relief agencies. This situation is evident in the images frequently shown on international media channels, particularly in the 1990s.86 For example, during my stay in Juba before departing to Egypt in 1992, almost all the population of Juba, including myself, were registered with the displaced people’s camps around Juba to enable them to get relief food that was intended for those displaced from the rural areas, to supplement what is purchased from the market. Besides its impact on economic, social, cultural, and educational aspects of the southern Sudanese society, the war has further contributed to environmental degradation and the depletion of natural resources. Since the majority of Sudanese depend on land for their livelihood, the continuing war has degraded their means of livelihood, such as the soil, grazing land, and natural vegetation. For example, since the war was fought mainly in the bushes of rural southern Sudan, the degradation of vegetation has had devastating consequences for the wildlife of the south, leading either to the death of some animals or to their migration into the neighboring countries. At the same time, overgrazing and the cutting down of trees for a variety of reasons, by the government and the rebel forces on the one hand and some residents of the south on the other, have contributed to deforestation on a massive scale, land erosion, and ecological degradation. For example, during my stay in Juba many government soldiers deployed in the south were engaged in trade in wood and other economic products, particularly in garrison towns in the south. As a result, great quantities of lumber were shipped north for economic development. Furthermore, reports from the SPLM/A-controlled areas indicated that some SPLM/A commanders were involved in a similar trade, mainly between the liberated areas and the neighboring countries of Uganda and Kenya.87 Similarly, as wood became the main source of fuel for cooking in the south, many residents in southern
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Sudan were/are engaged in firewood trade, supplying households, local bakeries, and other business facilities. In conclusion, one can argue that the competing identities and narratives through which the official national discourse of the country is to be narrated represent an important dimension of the root cause and perpetuation of the civil war in Sudan. In other words, identity issues revolving around race, ethnicity, and religion, in my opinion, represent the main factors that let to the “north-south” conflict in the Sudan. Similarly, struggle over natural resources and political power remains a contributing source of conflict.
CHAPTER 2 CONCEPTUALIZING REFUGEE CONDITIONS FROM FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES
opulation movement is not a new phenomenon worldwide. Throughout history, factors such as environmental disaster, political instability, and insecurity among others have triggered a mass movement of people from one place to another. In precolonial Africa, for example, population movement occurred during times of warfare between kingdoms, natural disasters, or as a result of people’s need to move in search of better livelihood or better trading opportunities. In contemporary times, the struggles for independence from colonial rule from the 1940s to the 1960s, and the postindependence wars from the 1960s up to the present have triggered far more movement of people both within the African continent and across international borders. In other words, both internal factors, such as civil wars, and external factors, such as foreign aggression, have interacted to produce such massive displacements of people, especially since the second half of the twentieth century.1 Over the past fifty years changes in the nature of refugee movement in Africa have been mostly attributed to the changing nature and duration of warfare in Africa. The prolonged periods of civil war, particularly in SubSaharan Africa, have greatly affected many African civilians since they become the targets of the warring parties. As Elizabeth Ferris argues, “[a] shift toward guerrilla warfare and the involvement of peasant populations has produced a much higher proportion of civilian casualties than earlier wars fought almost exclusively between professional soldiers.”2 The greater movement of people worldwide has led to the establishment of what Aristide Zolberg, Astri Suhrke, and Sergio Auayo refer to as the “International Refugee Regime”3 or what Rogers Zetter refers to as the “International Humanitarian Relief Regime” to deal with the refugee
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crisis.4 According to these scholars, a more specialized regime pertaining to the refugee crises of post–World War I and –World War II Europe, the struggles for independence, and the postindependent conflicts in the Third World countries was created. The main actors in this specialized regime according to them are the UNHCR and NGOs, the host governments and local communities, as well as the refugees themselves.5 Furthermore, this greater movement of people has led to an increase in the number of scholars and research institutions writing and researching refugee and forced migration issues. The refugee situation in Africa has attracted many international agencies from the Western countries, local NGOs, as well as academic institutions, researchers, and individuals. As a result, refugee work in general and work in Africa in particular are dominated by Northern relief agencies.6 For example, “in early 1994 there were over 2,500 Northern NGOs compared to hundreds of Southern ones receiving large amounts of international assistance.”7 All of these agencies and individuals, as well as the host governments, have their particular interests, objectives, and politics behind their involvement. These special interests, aims, and policies shape the way in which refugees from Africa are perceived and treated. They further influence the manner in which the international community and host government respond to each refugee crisis in Africa.8 As Rogers Zetter notes, “a handful of long-established ‘Northern-based’ NGOs (NNGOs) dominated the agenda of the relief regime and operational responses . . . [b]y networking among themselves they reinforce their power and control.” 9 Women and Gender in the Refugee Literature As indicated in the introduction of this book feminist scholars have contributed greatly in bringing the issue of women and gender to the center of refugee studies. In other words, these theorists have brought women refugees’ issues to the fore in international refugee agencies and in particular the UNHCR, and in major refugee-receiving countries as well. The recognition that 80 percent of the world’s refugees are women and their dependents,10 and that women refugees face specific problems through all stages of the refugee situation, as compared to men, has made the UNHCR and refugee-receiving countries, such as Canada, the United States, and others, rethink the 1951 UN refugee convention and policies relating to the refugee status determination procedures. It has further helped in the recognition that there is a need to take women refugees’ issues seriously. For example, in the mid-1980s to the early 1990s, the UNHCR issued several publications to be used by those representing women refugees as
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asylum seekers. In 1985 the UNHCR urged states “to adopt the interpretation that women asylum seekers who face harsh or inhuman treatment due to their having transgressed the social mores of the society in which they live may be considered as a ‘special social group’ within the meaning of Article 1A(2) of the 1951 United Nations Refugee Convention.”11 The UNHCR further issued guidelines on the protection of women refugees. These guidelines include “Guidelines on the Protection of Refugee Women,” 1991; “Sexual Violence Against Refugees,” and “Guidelines on Prevention and Response (1995a).”12 These guidelines are issued to “address gender-related persecution and recommend procedures to make the asylum determination process more accessible to women.”13 According to Heaven Crawley also, “[g]ender-related persecution refers to the experiences of women who are persecuted because they are women [that is to say] because of their identity and status as women.”14 Furthermore, in their book titled Development and Diaspora: Gender and the Refugee Experience, Wenona Giles, Helene Moussa, and Penny Van Esterik outlined some of the progress made in the UNHCR with regard to women refugees. For example, it was recognized for the first time that women refugees might require specific action in their favor. This recognition has led to the consideration of women refugees as individuals and independent people. Thus, it was suggested that women refugees are to be issued with “individual ID cards and or registration documents.” In this manner women refugees “would not be dependent on male heads of household” as they used to be in the past.15 The recognition of women refugees’ specific needs, rights, and experiences has made women refugees’ issues, that is, the gender-related patterns of persecution experienced by women refugees visible in the refugee discourse. This recognition has further made it possible for women refugees who have experienced sexual violence during civil wars or during peace times, for example, to speak out. This speaking out was evident during the United Nations Convention on Human Rights in Geneva (1993) where several women refugees and immigrants spoke of the sexual violence they experienced in their lives. Following the UNHCR’s action in 1993 Canada became the first country to adopt formal guidelines for the adjudication of refugee claims made by women.16 The Canadian guidelines stipulated that “women fleeing severely abusive spouses [or circumstances] who can show that their countries of origin are unwilling or unable to protect them, can now argue that domestic violence is a form of persecution as understood in Canadian refugee law.”17 The guidelines further “spell out that the persecution women endure because they are women must be considered at each stage
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of adjudication of their claims for asylum.”18 The adjudication process according to Sherene Razack includes [t]he assessment of the particular circumstances of claim, the general conditions of the claimant’s country of origin, the seriousness of the treatment the claimant fears, the relationship between a claimant’s fear and one of the five grounds [i.e., reasons for persecution, namely race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion], the degree of state protection available, and the possibility of an internal flight alternative.19
Canada is followed by the United States, which became the second country to adopt formal guidelines recognizing gender-related persecution. In June 1995, the Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS) “issued its Consideration for Asylum Officers Adjudicating Asylum Claims for Women.”20 The guidelines “give specific instructions to decision-makers that recognize rape and other forms of sexual violence as persecution and also recognize that women who are beaten, tortured, or subject to other such treatment for refusing to renounce their beliefs about equal rights of women may be considered for asylum protection.”21 Other countries such as Australia followed suit by adopting such guidelines. Feminist theorists, activists, and legal practitioners in the field of refugees and forced migration acknowledged the importance of gender persecution in the process of assessing women refugees’ claims. As Sherene Razack put it, “Canadian recognition of gender persecution represents an important moment for women world-wide. For the first time in international law, private violence against women, and the state’s complicity in failing to protect them, is recognized as an injustice for which the law can offer redress.”22 Despite these achievements resulting from the introduction of the concept of gender-related persecution in dealing with the situation of women refugees, many theorists and activists in the field of refugee and forced migration also pointed to the limits of how gender persecution is used particularly in refugee determination procedures. As noted by Heaven Crawley, the UNHCR guidelines do not have “the force of law or form part of the Refugee Convention and therefore cannot override express terms of Immigration Acts or rules.”23 This lack of force sometimes makes it difficult for women refugee claimants particularly overseas claimants to claim refugee status solely on gender-related persecution grounds without linking it to one of the five grounds for persecution outlined in the UN definition of a refugee, which I discuss in detail later. Another shortcoming of the gender-related persecution is its poor distribution and utilization. According to Nahla Valji, “[w]hile [the gender
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guidelines] are important when reconceptualizing asylum, [they] have had nominal impact beyond the symbolic expansion of the definition of refugee. Limited application as well as, limited awareness of the new policies have crippled any real redress for women.”24 For example, the Canadian guidelines on gender persecution apply only to claims within Canada and do not apply to visa officers abroad.25 Overseas women asylum seekers usually rely on the United Nations Refugee Convention, which does not recognize gender as one of the five listed grounds for persecution. This is true for southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo whose claims were/are determined by the UNHCR, which refers the accepted refugees to the respective embassies of major refugee-receiving countries such as Canada, the United States, and Australia. Despite these limitations, one can still argue that feminist scholars in the field of refugees and forced migrations have contributed in making gender and gender relations central in the study of refugees in general and women refugees in particular. Operational Definitions of Key Concepts To facilitate the analyses of women refugee experiences, it is always important to operationalize the key concepts used in the book. Therefore, in this section I provide working definitions of the following key concepts: a refugee, gender, gender relations, exile, race, racism, and ethnicity. Who Is a Refugee? According to the 1951 United Nations Convention and the Protocol relating to the status of refugees agreed upon by the United Nations in 1967, the term refugee “applies to ‘any person’ who is outside the country of his nationality . . . because he has or had well-founded fear of persecution by reason of his race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion and is unable or, because of such fear is, unwilling to avail himself of the protection of the government of the country of his nationality.”26 This definition was originally intended for European refugees uprooted by World War II. It also “reflected the transformation and Cold War division of post-war Europe into the Eastern and Western Blocs.”27 However, as a new flow of refugees emerged in the 1960s in nonEuropean countries, as a result of civil wars and other circumstances, this definition needed to be reconceptualized to include new categories of refugees. Thus, in 1969 the Organization of African Unity (OAU), now the African Union (AU), in the convention governing specific aspects of refugee problems in Africa negotiated a relatively encompassing definition
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of a refugee. In addition to the established UN definition centering on individual persecution, the term refugee “shall also apply to every person who, owing to external aggression, occupation, foreign domination or events seriously disturbing public order in either part or the whole of his country of origin or nationality, is compelled to leave his place of habitual residence in order to seek refuge in another place outside his country of origin or nationality.”28 Similarly, the Central American countries that agreed in 1984 to the nonbinding Cartagena Declaration on refugees added that “[t]he definition or concept of a refugee to be recommended for use in the region is one which in addition to containing the elements of the 1951 convention and the 1969 protocol, includes among refugee persons who have fled their country because their lives, safety or freedom have been threatened by generalized violation, foreign aggression, internal conflicts, massive violation of human rights or other circumstances which have seriously disturbed the public order.”29 Drawing on the above definitions, one can argue that persons who fit the 1951 definition of a refugee are those who have been individually persecuted and forced to cross international borders. As the 1951 definition of a refugee applies only to individual claims to a “well-founded fear of persecution,” it ignores the fact that many factors have affected millions of people collectively, who have suffered similar consequences as refugees, for example, civil wars, human rights abuses, and systematic political oppressions. The OAU/AU and Cartagena Declaration definitions of a refugee added new elements for the understanding of a refugee, which highlight important aspects of the reality of refugee crises today. However, despite the progress in how a refugee is defined, one can still argue that the elements of the 1951 convention (religion, political opinion, ethnic origin, fear of individual persecution) remain at the core of their formulation of what constitutes a refugee. Invoking these core elements determines one’s recognition or nonrecognition as a refugee. This is evident in the process of refugee status determination by the UNHCR office in Cairo. For example, for a Sudanese to be recognized as a refugee by the UNHCR, he/she has to prove that he/she left Sudan for fear of individual persecution on the bases of religion, political opinion, or ethnic background. However, considering the current crises in Africa where many people live in a refugee-like situation inside their country of origin, the above definitions become inadequate. Similarly, the definitions did not take gender into consideration. This gender-blind approach to the definition of a refugee suggests that those who are defined as such are only men, which is not always the case. Furthermore, as the determination of those seeking asylum in a third country is based on the 1951 UN definition, those who do not fit the criteria are usually left out.
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Therefore, a refugee in the context of this study encompasses those persons—women, men, and children—who have been forced to cross international borders or who are internally displaced in their country of origin, and are living in a refugee-like situation. This refugee-like situation may be characterized by insecurity, fear, discrimination, lack of basic human needs, protection, human rights abuse, and gender-based violence, among others. African women refugees, on the other hand, refer to women from SubSaharan Africa who are forced to leave their countries of origin to seek refuge in other countries, either within Africa or in other European and North American continents.30 Similarly, southern Sudanese women refugees represent those women who are from the southern regions of the Sudan. The categories “African women” and “southern Sudanese women refugees” are not being used here to represent a unified, undifferentiated nature of women refugees. Rather, they are used to show the diversified nature of women’s experiences and responses to a particular refugee situation based on their race, ethnicity, class, geographical locations, religion, language, and other social differences. Gender As indicated in the introduction to this study, gender as an analytic and as a social process, is conceptualized in relational, culturally, and historically specific terms. Many feminist scholars in the field of refugees and forced migration have articulated this conceptualization. Doreen Indra sees gender as a “key relational dimension of human activity and thought.” She also considers gender as referring to “socially and culturally constructed notions of women and men, and how these notions structure human society, including their histories, ideologies, economies, politics, and religions.”31 M. Hammersely, in discussing feminist methodology, argues that “[a] key feature of feminist methodology is a central concern with gender and gender asymmetry. It is argued that human social relations of all kinds are heavily structured by differences in the social position of women and men, and most important of all by differences between them in power.”32 According to Lucia McSpadden and Helene Moussa, gender is “a way of understanding how present and past societies and cultures construct ideas and knowledge about men and women. It is a way of locating women and men in the context of differentiated gender relations.”33 Moreover, Jok Schrijvers defines gender as a “key relational and power dimension of human activity and thought. Informed by culturally and historically specific notions of masculinity and femininity, it has far-ranging consequences for the overall positioning of women, men, children in all social domains, and it determines . . . the way in which people experience their lives.”34 From
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the above understanding of gender, it is important to affirm that gender is seen both as a key relational term and as a context, both culturally and historically specific. This conception of gender has helped in the deconstruction of the universalizing and homogenizing notion of a refugee. Based on this understanding one can also argue that the introduction of gender in refugee studies has significantly contributed to the understanding of the complex aspects of refugee populations in general and women refugees in particular. For example, gender-based analysis has contributed to the recovery of southern Sudanese women refugees’ voices, experiences, struggles, and adjustments in the refugee context. Gender Relations In order to understand the power relations between women and men, feminist theorists focused on gender relations to explain the unequal power relations between the sexes. In their theorizing feminists viewed gender relations as relations of domination. For instance, according to Jane Flax, “[t]he study of gender relations entails two levels of analysis: of gender as a thought construct or category that helps us to make sense out of particular social worlds and histories, and of gender as a social relation that enters into and partially constitutes all other social relations and activities.”35 Therefore, analyzing gender relations among refugees has further helped in the understanding of changes in the lives of male and female refugees, gender roles, power relations, identity construction, as well as in the nature of family and household structures in a refugee setting. As noted by Wenona Giles, Helene Moussa, and Penny Van Esterik, an understanding of “gender relations and the refugee experiences will serve to empower refugee women and their advocates.”36 Moreover, a gender-based approach has contributed to the analysis of southern Sudanese women refugees’ experiences before and during flight, and in the settlement process. Although women and men are similarly affected by the refugee situation, the gender-based analysis has also helped in pointing out the differences among women and between women’s, and men’s experiences. In sum, the term gender relations “refers to the gendered dimension of the social relations structuring the lives of individual women and men—such as the gendered division of labour and of access to and control over resources.”37 Exile Exile is conceptualized differently by different scholars and in different contexts. In his article “Reflections on Exile,” Edward Said argued that
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“exile is a solitude experienced outside the group: the deprivation felt at not being with others in the communal habitation . . . [it] is fundamentally a discontinuous state of being . . . [it] is life led outside habitual order—it is nomadic, decentred, contrapuntal.”38 Acknowledging the fact that anyone prevented from returning to his/her country of origin is an exile, Said made distinctions between “exiles, refugees, expatriates and émigrés.”39 As far as exiles and refugees are concerned, Said noted that “exile originated in the age-old practice of banishment . . . [whereas] refugees are a creation of the twentieth century state. The word ‘refugee’ has become a political one, suggesting large [groups of people] requiring international assistance.”40 David P. Lumsden in his article “Broken Lives? Reflections on the Anthropology of Exile and Repair,” further identified five faces of exile. These include “external—internal, proper—improper, fraudulent exilic identities or claims, those left behind, and returnees.”41 Drawing on the above interpretations, exile denotes a state of being outside of one’s country or place of origin. According to Lumsden, “Ex—indicates ‘out’ or ‘from’ place, as opposed to those remaining ‘in.’ ” He went on to argue that “those who are in exile may be outside of or still inside of ‘their’ state boundaries.”42 Therefore, and agreeing with David Lumsden, I can say that exile in the context of this book refers to a state of being outside of one’s place of origin. Race and Racism Literature on critical race studies has shown that the meanings and understanding of the concept race have changed and shifted over time and in different contexts and circumstances.43 For example, race theorists in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries emphasized the biological understanding of race. As a result, social relations and human behavior were believed to be determined by biology. This conceptualization of race as biologically determined have underpinned European conquest and colonization of non-European people. For instance, as noted by Maria Castagna and George Dei, “[r]acial typologies, buttressed by a Eurocentric view of the world, were critical in justifying European practices of cultural, economic and political genocide of non-European peoples.”44 However, over time such an understanding of the concept of race has become inadequate as realities have changed and new conceptualizations emerged, which move beyond questions of biology, skin color, and other phenotypical differences. As Maria Castagna and George Dei argue “contemporary critical race studies are characterized by a shift from biologistic and assimilationist conceptualizations of race to a discussion of race in the social, historical, ideological and political sense.”45
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Therefore, in the context of this book, my understanding of the concept of race follows Maria Castagna’s and George Dei’s conceptualization that it is “a social-relational category defined by socially selected real or imagined physical, as well as cultural characteristics.”46 In other words, the conceptualization of the social meaning of race depends on “the understanding that race cannot simply be defined ‘biologically.’ ”47 Similarly, as people are situated differently, the conceptualization of race must “recognize the importance of historical context and contingency in the framing of racial categories and social construction of racially defined experiences.”48 As a “social-relational category” and as historically and context specific, the concept race allows for the understanding of different ways in which southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo are viewed and treated both by the host population and by the international and local organizations and church groups dealing with the refugees. For instance, the race of those defined as refugees largely determines the process of “refugee status determination,” access to education, and the definition of the physical, cultural, linguistic, and religious characteristics of those seeking refugee status, work, and educational opportunities. Racism Theorists of race and race relations have further pointed out the complexity of meaning and usage of the term racism. For example, M. Banton identified four usages of the term racism: “a doctrine that race determines culture; the use of racial beliefs and attitudes to subordinate and control those who are racialized; as a label for a historical complex, generated within capitalism, facilitating the exploitation [of those] defined in racial terms; [and] anything connected with racial discrimination, prejudice, inequality, or with apartheid.”49 According to Tzvetan Todorov, racism “designates two very different things. On the one hand, it is a matter of behavior, usually a manifestation of hatred or contempt for individuals who have well-defined physical characteristics different from our own; on the other hand, it is a matter of ideology, a doctrine concerning human races.”50 Robert Miles on the other hand, emphasized two functions of racism, namely one “ideological” and the other “representational.”51 Racism is “conceived as an ideology because it represents human beings, and social relations, in a distorted manner.”52 As an ideology, racism operates in two ways. First, as a criterion by which a group of people may be identified. Second, those identified as such “must be attributed with additional, negatively evaluative characteristics and/or must be represented as inducing negative consequences for any other. Those characteristics may be either biological or cultural.”53
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As representational, racism involves the representation of the Self and the Other. Focusing on the Western representations of the Other and the European discourses of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Miles noted that “the process of representing the Other entails dialectic of representational inclusion and exclusion. By attributing a population with certain characteristics in order to categorize and differentiate it as an other, those who do so also establish criteria by which they themselves are represented.”54 For example, by defining the Africans “as ‘black’ and ‘savages,’ and thereby excluding them from their world, Europeans in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were representing themselves as ‘white’ and ‘civilized.’” Furthermore, by employing the “discourse of ‘race’ to exclude and inferiorise, that same discourse, but with inverted meanings, served to include and superiorise.”55 According to Floya Anthias and Nira Yuval-Davis, racism(s) can be understood as “modes of exclusion, inferiorization, subordination and exploitation that present specific and different characteristics in different social and historical contexts” . . . that, “racism is a set of postulates, images . . . which serve to differentiate and dominate.”56 These authors’ understanding of racism relate to Robert Miles’s understanding of racism specifically in their emphasis on the exclusionary, inferiorizing, and exploitative functions of racism. The complexity of the meaning and usage of the term racism expressed by theorists of race and racism in Canada, the United States, and Europe has led to the emergence of a new understanding of the term. Therefore, the conceptualization of racism in this book moves beyond black/white racism to speak of various racisms. These various racisms may include cultural, religious, economic, and other forms of racisms. Despite the fact that many people in Sudan and Egypt deny or dismiss the relevancy of race and the practices of racism there, in this book, I argue that the concept of race in its social construction is relevant and the practice of racism exists. This is evident, for example, in the ways in which southern Sudanese refugees are viewed and treated by the Egyptians, or the way in which Egyptian women employers treat southern Sudanese women refugees who work as domestic workers in their homes.57 Based on this understanding, therefore, I use the term racism here to refer to representational and discriminatory processes and practices. These discriminatory processes and practices are interpreted in both biological and cultural characteristics of those defined as refugees in Cairo. Given the historical memories between Egypt and Sudan, which is characterized by the Egypt conquest of Sudan, the practice of slavery, coupled with the deteriorating living conditions in Sudan as a consequence of war, many Egyptians tend to look down on people from Sudan, especially those from southern Sudan.58
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Ethnicity According to Peter Li, the term ethnic “refers to people of a common heritage. Sociologists . . . use the term to refer to a group of people who presumably share a common experience and origin.”59 Like race, ethnicity “involves the social construction of an origin as a basis for community or collectivity.”60 In the context of this study, ethnicity is conceptualized as a socially constructed, historically and context—specific, and relational category. Its social construction is determined by socially related cultural characteristics, involving such elements as a shared sense of common history, religion, language, shared experiences of oppression, and myths of common descents. In other words, ethnicity is a shared sense of identity. As a social and relational category, ethnicity usually involves differentiation between and among different ethnic groups on the basis of the different elements of ethnicity, as well as the differential power relations between a dominant and a subordinate group. For example, within the context of Sudan, ethnic identity is sometimes used to differentiate between northern and southern Sudanese, and other times to differentiate between people on the basis of origin, religion, language, physical features, economic resources, and other elements. Ethnic identity can further be used to deny full participation in the economic, cultural, social, and political life of the society. Similarly, within southern Sudan, southern Sudanese tend to differentiate among themselves on the basis of their ethnic origin, language, and place of origin. This understanding of ethnicity involves “partaking of social conditions of a group, which is positioned in a particular way in terms of the social allocation of resources, within a context of difference to other groups, as well as commonalities and difference within [the group].”61
CHAPTER 3 CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK
s indicated in the introduction, this book explores the experiences of southern Sudanese women refugees within the conceptual framework of the interlocking and the intersecting systems of oppression, and the idea of the “simultaneity” of oppression articulated by African feminists,1 black feminists,2 and antiracism and critical race theorists.3 The underlying assumption in the interlocking and the intersecting systems of oppression framework is the refusal either to address one form of oppression while leaving others intact or to hierarchize oppressions. This point has been well illustrated by Mary Louise Fellows and Sherene Razack, when they argue that “attempts to change one system while leaving the other intact leaves in place the structure of domination that is made up of interlocking hierarchies.”4 Therefore, in order to change the situation of women or any other marginalized group, race, gender, class, ethnicity, and sexuality should be addressed simultaneously. This model treats these forms of oppression as interlocking rather than as additive systems.5 For example, “Black feminist thought treats the intersection among multiple systems as the object of study. Rather than adding to existing theories by intersecting previously excluded variables, Black feminists aim to develop new theoretical interpretations of the intersection itself.”6 Accordingly, Gloria T. Hull, Patricia B. Scott, and Barbara Smith (1982) pointed out that the commitment of black feminists is to struggle “against racial, sexual, heterosexual and class oppression.” Thus, the particular task of black feminists is to develop an “integrated analysis and practice based upon the fact that major systems of oppression are interlocking.”7 In her work, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, Patricia Hill Collins further uses the notion of intersectional paradigms to explain how all systems of oppressions operate simultaneously. According to Collins, “intersectional paradigms make two important contributions to understanding the connections between knowl-
A
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edge and empowerment.”8 She goes further to note that the notion of intersectional paradigms are not only useful in explaining the experience of black women in the United States, but can also “shape the experiences of other groups as well . . . Intersectional paradigms further shed new light on how domination is organized.”9 Intersectional paradigm as a concept “provides an interpretative framework for thinking through how intersections of race and class, or race and gender, sexuality and class, for example, shape any group experience across specific social contexts.”10 Despite the fact that the notions of the interlocking and the intersecting systems of oppressions are widely accepted by many nonwhite feminists as a useful conceptual framework, at the same time agreeing with Collins, one can argue that the intersection of the systems of oppression does not affect women similarly. Its effects vary greatly depending on women’s race, class, sexuality, ethnicity, region, religion, level of education, age, and so forth. For instance, as Patricia Collins pointed out, “although intersectionality is valid as a heuristic device, treating race, class and gender as if their intersection produces equivalent results for all oppressed groups obscures differences in how race, class and gender are hierarchically organized, as well as the differentiated effects of intersecting systems of power on diverse groups of people.”11 I adopted these conceptual frameworks with an aim of capturing the complexities of the everyday experiences and situations of women refugees. Recognizing the difficulty in adequately addressing all intersectionalities, this book emphasizes issues of gender and gender relations and how they are played out in a refugee context because that is where many negotiations and changes occur as a consequence of displacement. However, this emphasis on gender and gender relations should not be understood as ignoring the importance of other forms of oppression, but rather as a starting point to understand the many issues affecting the lives of southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Like race and class, gender represents a central dimension of social structures. Thus, a focus on gender, conceptualized as a socially constructed relationship between the sexes, as they affect and, in turn, are affected by displacement conditions, can yield important insights into the refugee phenomena. Significantly, African feminists, black feminists, and antiracism perspectives, though connected, differ in their points of departure and emphases. They share common assumptions and an understanding of the interlocking and the intersecting nature of oppression, that is, they refuse to address only one form of oppression while leaving others unchallenged, which usually “leaves in place the structure of domination that is made up of interlocking hierarchies.”12 In the following pages, I briefly outline the main features of each framework to show points of convergence and divergence, as well as their importance in analyzing refugee experiences.
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African Feminism African feminism articulated by African women both in the continent and in the diaspora is very important in the study of women refugee experiences because it invokes the power of African women by placing them at the center of the study. In defining African feminism, Filomina Chioma Steady wrote, “African feminism combines racial, sexual, class, and cultural dimensions of oppression . . . [an] ideology which encompasses freedom from oppression based on the political, economic, social, and cultural manifestations of racial, cultural, sexual, and class biases.”13 African feminisms are as multiple and heterogeneous as African women themselves, who are differentiated by class, age, race, regionalism, colonial experiences, education, urbanism/ruralism, center/periphery, and African/ diaspora.14 Molara Ogundipe-Leslie has agued that “there are many feminisms [in Africa], depending on the center from which one is speaking or theorizing. These feminisms have to be theorized around the junctures of race, class, caste and gender, nation, culture and ethnicity, age, status, roles and sexual orientation.”15 Furthermore, Susan Arndt argued that “[i]n analogy to the ethnic, cultural, social, economic, political and religious diversity of the African continent, there are numerous varieties of African feminism.”16 As a result, and concurring with Arndt’s argument, African feminists from different locations, both in Africa and the diaspora, address a range of themes and issues pertaining to African women and their societies. While addressing different issues affecting their lives, African women also recognize commonality of experience among them. As Juliana M. Nfah-Abbenyi clearly put it, “[w]omen translate their ‘cry’ or ‘drum beat’ into a universal war-cry, while at the same time stressing the particularities and/or complex and multiple levels of their own oppression.”17 Based on Nfah-Abbenyi’s conceptualization, within many African societies, the “cry” or the drumming metaphor though pointing to a commonality of women’s experiences still represents or conveys different messages, depending on the context or the occasion in which the drumming occurs. Furthermore, African feminism, as well as the various ways in which differently located African women conceptualize African feminism, were and are determined partly by their regional differences, colonial and personal experiences, and generational background. For instance, African feminists from war-torn societies in Africa tend to focus their feminist analysis on the impact of war and displacement on the lives of women. Women living under the Islamic rule often focus their analysis on the situation of women within the Islamic Shari’a, or law. Furthermore, others combine their criticism of gender relationships with the issue of race and racism.
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Issues of Concern for African Feminists Before addressing the main issues of concern for African feminists, as well as making any conclusion as to whether feminism is relevant to Africa or not, it is important to make a distinction between African feminism(s) and Western, mainstream feminism, a distinction based on the issues raised and addressed by the two forms of feminisms. The term “mainstream Western feminism” refers to a body of knowledge and the perspectives developed in the West by privileged, white, middle-class and heterosexual women. This body of knowledge and perspectives are rooted simultaneously in the disciplinary structures of the academy and the women’s social movement of the 1960s and the 1970s.18 According to Cheryl Johnson-Odim, “mainstream feminism” is defined as “a liberal bourgeois, or reformist feminism.”19 At its inception the main concern of the mainstream feminism was to challenge sexism in Western societies. Gender, together with patriarchy within mainstream white feminist theorizing, came to represent the most important forms of oppressions. Thus, in order for women to be liberated, the task of mainstream feminists was/is to deconstruct the concepts and social structures that sustain gender oppression. The assertion of the centrality of gender oppression or sexism is evident in some of the writings of both early and contemporary mainstream white Western feminists.20 Most of the early writings, for instance, revolved around the oppression of women by men within the private sphere, that is, the patriarchal family and unequal treatment of both women and men in public institutions. The varieties of mainstream feminist thinking, however, pointed to the different forms of oppression women experience within the family. For example, the main argument of the liberal feminists is that female subordination is rooted in a set of customary and legal constraints that hinder women’s entrance into the public sphere. Therefore, for women to be liberated, liberal feminists call for equal opportunity and pay between women and men in the public sphere. This call for equal opportunity emphasized women’s rights as individuals to choose and to determine for themselves what they need irrespective of biological sex.21 Radical feminists, on the other hand, pointed to men’s control over women’s bodies and sexuality as the most pervasive form of women’s oppression. For them the biological base of women’s subordination is viewed as the fundamental oppression eclipsing class or race. “Patriarchy is seen as a transhistorical all embracing structure” . . . and “the family is identified as the key instrument in the oppression of women through sexual slavery and forced motherhood.”22 On the contrary, Marxist feminists emphasized the material base of oppression, which rests in men’s control over women’s labor power.23
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As noted by Evelyn N. Glenn, the “Marxist-feminist perspective views women’s subordination as a product of two intersecting systems[:] Patriarchy and capitalism . . . According to this analysis, the main mechanism by which patriarchy was established and is maintained today is the sexual division of labor.”24 At the core of this argument is the understanding that the sexual division of labor has contributed to the subordination of women by making them economically dependent on a male wage earner. In short, as Rosemarie Tong has argued, men’s control of women’s labor power is “constituted by restricting women’s access to important economic resources and by disallowing women any control over female sexuality and especially female reproductive capacities.”25 This focus of mainstream Western feminism on sexism, gender, and patriarchy as the main forms of oppression has been seriously criticized by black and Third World feminists and feminists of color for its neglect of racism and imperialism. Therefore, as a result of the involvement of Third World women both within and outside of the United States, Canada, and Europe in feminist theorizing, the definitions of feminism have been broadened to incorporate race and class analysis. Their involvement further led to the realization that feminism is not universal and unifying; rather, there are diverse, historicized, and context-specific forms of feminism. Ayesha M. Imam argues that “[t]here is no universal feminism, no abstract feminist theorizing but rather local feminisms that develop in particular contexts, at particular periods, and in particular ways.”26 Therefore, what distinguishes African feminism from Western feminism is its origin, the issues around which African feminists theorize and analyze, as well as their points of emphasis. As Gwendolyn Mikell argues, “[t]he new African-feminist approach differs radically from the Western forms of feminism with which we have become familiar since the 1960s. African feminism owes its origins to different dynamics than those that generated Western feminism. It has largely been shaped by African women’s resistance to Western hegemony and its legacy within African culture.”27 As shown in the following pages, African feminists in their theory, practice, and organization often stress issues that affect their lives and everyday experiences directly, both within the family and in the larger society. For example, such issues as basic needs—water, food, shelter, and health—as well as global and local state policies, cultural practices, and patriarchal manifestations that are oppressive and discriminatory to women are also emphasized. Another aspect that distinguishes African feminism from Western feminism is its lack of total opposition to men. On the contrary, it seeks to create an alliance between women and men. As Susan Arndt clearly notes, “African feminists frequently assume that men and women should form an alliance in their fight against these social phenomena—and
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that this fight should include a common challenge of patriarchal social structures.”28 However, based on realties in many African countries, forging such an alliance is sometimes difficult, since challenging patriarchal structures is seen by many men as a threat to their power and authority over women, particularly within the family. Therefore, as Ama Atta Aidoo argues, one must conclude that feminism is not foreign to Africa as many people tend to argue. Feminism has always existed in Africa, in theory, and in practice. In other words, feminism in Africa is manifested in women’s daily struggle to improve their living conditions and that of their families and societies. What is foreign is a Western feminist terminology.29 Juliana M. Nfah-Abbenyi further notes, “[b]efore feminism became a movement with a global political agenda, African women both ‘theorized’ and practised what for them was crucial to the development of women, although no terminology was used to describe what these women were actively doing, and are still practising on a day-today basis.”30 As for the relevancy of feminism to Africa, Molara Ogundipe-Leslie argues that “feminism is relevant to Africa because African women [and other women] are oppressed as women by race, class and other realities.”31 Contrary to this, I argue that feminism is not only exclusively relevant to Africa solely because of the oppression of women, but it is also relevant because of what the women do in their everyday lives. As indicated earlier, African feminism(s) is/are as multiple and heterogeneous as African women themselves. As a result, African women, with their diverse social locations and experiences, exemplified both the theorizing and practice of feminism by their everyday experiences, such as in the family, marketplace, farm, and other sites of social organization. For instance, in her analysis of gender and social movements in Africa, Ifi Amadiume noted that “most African societies had women’s organizations which controlled or organized agricultural work, trade, the markets, and women’s culture and its relevant ideology.”32 Similarly, Marida Hollo in her study of the lives of women in southern Nigeria noted that, “‘market’ women with little formal education were often the major earners of their households, and they played a more forceful and controlling role in their families,” and politics as well.33 One of the issues addressed by African feminists is the representation of African women in most Euro-American discourse. For instance, African feminists challenge the representation of African women in the EuroAmerican discourse as homogeneous, illiterate, backward, and voiceless, and as a powerless group subject to poverty.34 Similarly, African feminists challenge the assumption that feminism is foreign to Africa and that feminism is irrelevant to Africa, an assumption, which is also prevalent in African societies both at home and abroad. For example, the foreignness and irrelevancy
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of feminism to Africa is sometimes used by some Africans, especially men to silence those African women who challenge some of the cultural practices such as wife beating, polygamy, Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), among many—which they view as oppressive to women. Another important theme that African feminists focus on is the condition of and obstacles faced by African women. In describing the conditions of African women, Molara Ogundipe-Leslie identified six “mountains” that an African woman carries on her back. These include “oppression from outside in the form of colonialism and neo-colonialism; oppression from traditional structures: Feudal, Communal, slave-based; [woman’s] own backwardness; the African man; [her] color or her race; and the woman herself because she has internalized all these oppressions.”35 Many of the above issues raised by Ogundipe-Leslie have been and continue to be the main focus of many African feminist writings. For example, issues of polygamy, the institution of bride price, the levirate, gender relations, FGM, and marriage conventions among others, continue to dominate the current debate on the state of African women. African feminists both in the continent and in the diaspora, in theory and in analysis, uncover the oppressive and discriminatory nature of these institutions and practices on women’s lives. According to Susan Arndt, “African feminists often combine their criticism of gender relationships with a challenge to one or more of the other . . . forms of discrimination and oppression. [These include] racism, neo-colonialism, cultural imperialism, religious fundamentalism, socio-economic mechanisms of oppression and dictatorial and/or corrupt systems.”36 Although African women are affected and are constrained by many oppressive conditions and obstacles, both internal and external, still the kinds of oppression an individual woman is subjected to depend on the position she is in. Therefore, not all women in Africa, for example, have internalized all the oppressive conditions or cultural traditions and practices they are subjected to, as Ogundipe-Leslie suggested above. Instead many women have challenged and continue to challenge some of the oppressive conditions experienced by women. Furthermore, African feminists do not stop at the criticism stage of the discriminatory and oppressive patriarchal and other structures of their societies, but they move beyond criticism to offer alternative perspectives and view points on how and what should be done in order to improve the conditions of African women both on the continent and in the diaspora. Susan Arndt writes, “[a]s a rule, African feminists do not stop at the criticism of patriarchal structures, but also discuss alternatives to what is criticized. They discuss scopes of action and alternative perspectives for women which might help overcome their discrimination and oppression.”37 This point of seeking alternatives to what is
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being criticized is reflected, for example, in the narratives of many of the women participants I interviewed in Cairo. Therefore, in order to reconstruct and rewrite African women’s experiences, scholars have to rethink and refocus their ways of thinking and of studying African women. One also needs to look for “African women’s voices in women’s spaces,” that is, in such spaces as “kitchens, watering sites, kinship gathering, and women’s political and commercial spaces where women speak.”38 African feminists have to analyze and critically challenge some of the negative aspects of African culture and heritage. Based on the above understanding, it is important to note that African feminism is an important theoretical framework in the study of African women refugees, by evoking the power of African women. Using this framework provides insight into women refugee’s struggles for survival in the uncertainty, fearful, and oppressive refugee and displacement conditions. It also helps in challenging the unifying nature of the category “refugee,” as well as the victimized and dependent image of an African woman refugee. For, despite the difficulties they face, southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo are able to make life possible for themselves, their children, and other members of the family. Therefore, they are challenging the assumptions that emphasize the victimized and the powerlessness of women refugees. Black Feminist Thought Black feminist thought is defined as a multiple level engagement,39 placing African American women at the center of the analysis.40 Patricia H. Collins has argued that the interlocking nature of race, gender, and class oppression is one of the recurring themes in black feminist writings.41 Black feminists challenge both the grand narratives as well as mainstream Western feminism, pointing out the invisibility of black women in those scholarships. Many black feminists in North America, for example, have argued that feminism has excluded and silenced the experiences and voices of nonwhite women in their theorizing and feminist practices.42 Similarly, many of these feminists have rejected both the assertion that gender and patriarchy are the most important forms of oppression and the assumption that the relationship among the various forms of discriminations is merely additive. As Rose M. Brewer notes, “[g]ender as a category of analysis cannot be understood decontexualized from race and class in Black feminist theorizing. Social constructions of Black womanhood and manhood are inextricably linked to racial hierarchy, meaning system and institutionalization.”43 Debora K. King further argued that the exclusive focus on either gender or class oppression, or their treatment as separate models, tends to “ignore the fact that racism, sexism and classism constitute
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three interdependent control systems.”44 Thus, King suggested an interactive model or what she refers to as “multiple jeopardy,” whereby the multiplicity “refers not only to several simultaneous oppressions, but to the multiplicative relationships among them as well.”45 Emphasizing the usefulness of the intersecting framework, Patricia H. Collins argued that “intersectionality references the ability of social phenomena such as race, class and gender to mutually construct one another.” Thus, this approach is useful in highlighting “how African American women and other social groups are positioned within unjust power relations, but it does so in a way that introduces added complexity to formerly race-, class- and gender-only approaches to social phenomena.”46 Therefore, it can be argued that these feminists call for the rethinking of feminist theory and epistemology so that feminism becomes encompassing and inclusive. The interlocking and the intersecting conceptual framework and the simultaneity of oppression thus represent an alternative for those perspectives that privileged one form of oppression over others. This framework further suggests a reformulation or a shift in feminist theory and epistemological consideration. For instance, black feminists call for the acknowledgment of social differences among women. They further call for all feminists to address all systems of oppression simultaneously, instead of treating race, gender, class, sexuality, ethnicity, and other forms of difference as separate and discrete systems of hierarchy. For example, instead of analyzing gender roles solely within the patriarchal system of oppression, it is important to analyze how the racialized construction of gender roles affects women differently depending on their race and class. As noted by Dionne Brand, “the examination of how gender roles are racially constructed can only deepen our analysis of how gender oppression actually works and how gender oppression is firmly tied to racial oppression and class oppression.”47 However, for black feminists, the emphasis on social differences among women does not mean that alliance between women across racial or class lines is endangered or impossible as some feminists have argued. Instead they suggested that analyses of women’s experiences be locally situated because women are thought of as “being locally situated . . . and therefore differently and multiply located.” Emphasizing situated perspectives allows women to “think of difference among women without losing sight of the commonalities.”48 At the same time, “differences as central to feminist concern represent an attempt to understand the variety of socio-cultural spheres in which women exist.”49 Therefore, in order to build solidarity and sisterhood between women, black feminists have noted the necessity to address racism and classism within the feminist movement. As bell hooks has argued, “racism is
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fundamentally a feminist issue because it is so interconnected with sexist oppression.”50 Since racism and classism have created and continue to create divisions among women, black feminists have suggested that feminism should come to terms with the multiple processes through which exclusion and racialization have taken place within feminism. Furthermore, the intersection of race, class, gender, sexuality, and other forms of oppression in determining women’s condition are to be contextualized and historicized. In other words, the analysis of women’s oppression should be situated within specific contexts and should be historically specific. Integrative Antiracism Framework My review of the refugee literature, in general, and that of the African refugee, in particular, has shown that issues of race, racism, and ethnicity, and responses to refugee situations, which are sometimes determined by the race and ethnicity of those defined as refugees, are either ignored or not taken seriously into consideration. Based on this realization, I also used “an integrative antiracism” as an alternative framework that allows me to explore issues of race and racism and how they are played out in a refugee context, and in particular within the context of a refugee-host relationship.51 In other words, I show how refugees from Sudan are racialized and ethnicized using labels such as northern or southern Sudanese, African, Arab, Muslim, Christian, or “animist.” According to George Dei, integrative antiracism is defined “as the study of how the dynamics of social difference (race, class, gender, sexual orientation, physical ability, language, education, and religion) are mediated in people’s daily experiences. [It] is also an activist theory and analysis that must always be consciously linked to struggles against oppressions.”52 Dei’s integrative antiracism framework challenges hierarchical and additive analysis of social oppression. Such analysis, according to Dei, “denies the complexity of experiences that can, and must, be examined, explained and addressed.”53 Therefore, this framework “acknowledges our multiple, shifting and often contradictory identities and subject positions . . . [it] rejects meta-narratives or grand theories . . . in effect, calls for multiplicative, rather than additive analysis of social oppression.”54 An integrative antiracism framework is “based on the principle that myriad forms of oppressions are interlocked . . . [thus] a study of one [form] entails a study of [the others].”55 Accordingly, I argue that an integrative antiracism approach is useful in the study of Sudanese women refugees because of its emphasis on the intersectionality of social oppressions, and on the idea that “individual subjectivities are constituted differently by the relations of race, class, gender, age,
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disability, sexuality, nationality, religion, language and culture.”56 For example, women refugees’ responses to their refugee situation differ according to their age, class, social status, ethnic and regional background, education, and other forms of social difference. Similarly, international relief agencies’ responses to refugee situations are determined by the same social differences. In her analysis of women refugee claimants from the Third World, Sherene Razack has shown how gender persecution in refugee discourse “can function as a deeply racialized concept in that it requires that Third World women speak of their realities of sexual violence outside of, and at the expense of, their realities as colonized people.”57 Moreover, as the integrative antiracism framework recognizes the power of subordinated or oppressed groups to challenge and resist positions of marginality, it further sheds light on how differently located southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo are challenging and resisting the victimized and dependent image of an African woman refugee, both individually and collectively. As Dei notes, integrative antiracism “integrates how groups positioned differently come together on the basis of a common abhorrence of social oppression and fight the prevailing culture of dominance.”58 Based on my experience as a refugee, and my understanding of the refugee and immigration policies of North America, as well as of some African countries hosting refugees, I maintain that gender, race, ethnicity, class, age, (dis)ability, among others, do intersect to determine how hosting governments respond to the refugee situation in Africa. For instance, these differences affect the decision to accept or reject asylum seekers, the decision to extend or not extend relief aid to refugees, as well as the type or kind of relief assistance given to refugees in Africa. Taking the refugee resettlement program to a third country as an example, one can argue that the intersection of race, class, gender, and other forms of social difference do play a great role in the resettlement process, particularly in the refugee status determination procedures. Such aspects as country of origin, educational level, gender, physical ability, and health represent the criteria for determining the acceptance or rejection of a refugee claim for resettlement. In their analysis of the health issues affecting Sub-Saharan African women refugees, Haragua Getu and Joyce Nsubuga maintained that “women have fewer opportunities to resettle in countries with well organized social/ health services because the criteria used by Western countries when accepting African refugees for resettlement are discriminatory to women refugees. Such criteria include high education levels, the ability to integrate into Western societies, and potential refugee health care costs.”59 Several points of convergence as well as divergence can be drawn from the above discussion of the frameworks. First, all three frameworks
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challenge hierarchical and additive analysis of social oppressions, calling for simultaneous and multiplicative analysis. Similarly, they reject grand narratives, arguing that these narratives ignore, colonize, and misrepresent the experiences and realities of non-European people. All frameworks also emphasize the relevancy of personal experiential knowledge. But the frameworks have different emphases. On the one hand, an integrative antiracism framework emphasizes the saliency of race without dismissing the importance of other forms of difference. In other words, “[i]n recognizing the centrality of race and its ‘immediacy in everyday experience,’ integrative anti-racism also acknowledges the co-determinant status of race, class, and gender dynamics.”60 On the other hand, Black feminist thought and African feminism stress the centrality and power of women in any social analysis. Whereas African feminists trace the roots of African feminism to the precolonial Africa past,61 black feminists locate the roots of black feminism “in the historical reality of Afro-American women’s continuous life and death struggle for survival and liberation.”62 In analyzing the situation of southern Sudanese refugees, using these frameworks helps me understand how gender, race, ethnicity, class, age, (dis)ability, and other forms of difference determine hosting governments’ responses to the refugee situation in Africa. For example, by employing these frameworks, I am able to analyze the refugees-host relationships from a race and class perspective, instead of from a purely economic point of view. Similarly, these frameworks are useful in analyzing issues of complicity by researchers of international and local agencies working with refugees. As well, these frameworks help me to understand how differently located southern Sudanese women refugees respond differently to the refugee situation, and the different ways they question the past that has informed their perceptions of themselves and the world around them. They further give insights into southern Sudanese women refugees’ differing ways of resistance to the refugee situation. This book follows George Dei’s analysis and understanding of the concepts of intersecting and interlocking systems of oppression. Dei distinguished between “intersecting” and “interlocking” oppressions. According to him, “‘intersectionality’ has one aspect of identity as a foundational base through which other oppressions are read as interconnected.”63 On the contrary, “[a]n interlocking analysis is a political, constructive and . . . [a] transformative framework that exposes how subject locations are secured by the dominant power and articulated through the disempowerment of the subordinated.”64 This distinction is particularly important in my analysis of the experiences of Sudanese refugees for two reasons. First, through intersectionality, I am able to analyze the interplay between gender, class, ethnicity, and refugeeness in determining how the southern Sudanese
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refugees in Cairo responded to the refugee situation as well as how they relate to and interact with both the host population and the different international organizations and church groups working with the refugees. Similarly, it allows for the understanding of how differently situated southern Sudanese women refugees make different choices in their response to the circumstances in Cairo, as well as how they challenge their past and the dependent image of a refugee woman. Second, the interlocking analysis enables me to analyze the process through which a refugee is defined, the refugee status determination procedures, and the social structures set up for refugees that are designed to sustain the processes of domination and subordination. For example, as we see in chapter 6 of this book, the UNHCR caseworkers provide themselves with job security by making the refugee status determination extremely time consuming and complicated. Furthermore, the interlocking analysis also allows political engagement and the evocation of a relative saliency of identities even when such identities are interrelated.
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CHAPTER 4 INTERVIEWING REFUGEES IN TRANSIT: IMPLICATIONS ON THE RESEARCH PROCESS
Methodological Approach qualitative research approach was used to collect the data for writing this book. Brigit Brock-Utne describes this approach as “holistic, in the sense that it attempts to provide a contextual understanding of the complex interrelationships of causes and consequences that affect human behaviour.”1 The term qualitative method covers a range of techniques such as interviewing, observation, and documentary. I used interviewing to collect the participants’ narratives. Although it is widely used by social scientists, interviewing has both advantages and disadvantages. The chief advantage of interviewing is its flexibility in collecting data. This is particularly true when the interviews are guided by unstructured or open-ended questions. This allows the respondent to provide detailed information about the issues under discussion.2 As a social process involving social interaction between the researcher and the researched, “interviews yield a dynamic insight into the lives of the interviewees [i.e.] how they experience, interpret and act upon their lives.”3 Similarly, individual interviews enable the respondent to offer a personal perspective on the issues under investigation. That is, through body language, and the way in which the researcher and the researched interact, interviewing can provide useful and unique insights and perspectives on the research process. However, the success of the interview can depend on the nature of the interaction, the techniques used, and the setting in which the interview is conducted. One way of dealing with that is to share one’s thoughts and life experiences with the interviewee. This is because interviewing, according to Barbara Merrill (1999), “is not a one-way process with the researcher
A
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exploiting the researched for their own ends.”4 Therefore, throughout the course of my interview, in some instances, I shared my thoughts and experiences, which are either similar to that of the participant or relate to the issue under investigation. As a result of such sharing, I was able to elicit information that the participant(s) was (were) hesitant or unwilling to share. Another advantage of the interview method is that it allows for “dialogue between researcher and respondent to clarify questions and responses, ask more information, or follow up with probes that elicit additional information.”5 The prime disadvantage of interviewing is that it is time consuming both during and after the interview is over. For instance, during the interview process the researcher needs to concentrate, and to be able to “listen, write, and anticipate a future question all at the same time, and [develop] strong human relations skills.”6 Similarly, interviews are usually emotionally charged for both the researcher and the respondent. For example, doing research among refugees usually involves emotions and pain for both the research subjects and the researcher. This is because many refugees have experienced loss of property and loved ones, and discrimination. As someone who has experienced war and its consequences, I cannot deny the fact that many times I find myself struggling to control my emotions. As noted by Elisa Facio (1993), “[b]eing interviewed can be a very emotional experience for the respondent . . . [Similarly] researchers many times may find themselves struggling to maintain emotional neutrality.”7 Furthermore, interviewing refugees who are experiencing hardships on many fronts, be they economic, social, or environmental, can be a difficult thing to do, particularly if the intent of the study is not mainly to identify the problems and difficulties the refugees are experiencing. Participants in such a situation usually tend to talk more about their economic problems and how that affects their lives, and the lives of their families. Part of my struggle, then, was to balance their concerns and the objectives of my study. Therefore, I was often required to divert the attention of a participant from focusing on her/his problems toward answering the questions. For example, posing follow-up questions on some of the issues raised became necessary. This strategy of shifting the focus was important because I did not want to give the impression that I was not interested in what she/he was saying, but to show that what she/he was narrating was as important as the other issues I was pursuing. It was also necessary to maintain the trust. Another disadvantage is that although interviews may provide in-depth information on particular issues under study, they sometimes sacrifice breadth of data. This is often the case because the research process is shaped by time, the researcher’s efforts, and the ability to interview as many people
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as possible, as well as by the research setting and situation. For instance, conducting interviews among refugees in an insecure camp setting can be risky business. Often time researchers might be worrying about their own safety and security and that of their participants. Thus, the researcher may not have the time or courage to interview all the people who are willing to be interviewed individually. As a result of these shortcomings, interviewing is often used in conjunction with other forms of data collection. Therefore, in addition to interviewing, I employed a group discussion approach that generates insights and discussions on common themes and issues affecting both women and men refugees. Discussion groups were organized around such issues as the general impact of exile on the lives of refugees; changes in gender relations within the family and the refugee community at large; issues of marriage, divorce, child custody, refugee status determination process at the UNHCR; the role of the church, interethnic and interracial relations, polygamy; health problems; refugee-national relations; and global issues affecting women, among others. Discussing these issues in their totality is very important because they set the context within which refugees’ experiences and actions are shaped and affected. They also allow for the understanding of other aspects of exile that have impacted the refugees. For instance, my review of the refugee literature has shown that the role of the church in changing refugees’ spirituality, perceptions, and the way they experience life is not adequately addressed. Most of the existing studies focus mainly on the role of PVOs, some of which are church-based organizations that engage in delivering material support to the needy.8 Drawing on the above analysis, one can argue that context is very important in analyzing refugee experiences. As Douglas notes, “concrete human events are always to some degree dependent on the situational context in which they occur and can adequately be explained only by taking that context into account.”9 In sum, both interviews and group discussion methods allow the participants to provide detailed information and personal perspective on the issue under study, as well as insights and discussions on common issues affecting both women and men refugees. Authority and Power Doing research in refugee communities usually poses unique methodological concerns. This is particularly true when refugees are in the state of transition, a temporary place where refugees are waiting for relocation to a permanent settlement. Egypt has become for the Sudanese refugees a country of transition, a place to acquire refugee status before resettling in a
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Western country. As noted in the introduction, the majority of Sudanese refugees who arrived in Cairo in the period 1998–2001 mainly came to apply to the UNHCR for resettlement. Therefore, they consider Egypt a stepping stone into other parts of the world. Every refugee is looking forward to be resettled either in the United States of America, Canada, or Australia. Using the interviewing method in research, one faces issues of authority and power in the researcher/researched relationships that create methodological challenges that should be addressed. Being in an academic institution located in Canada and conducting research among refugees in Egypt, my relationships with research participants is never equal, despite the fact that I have been in Cairo before and had experienced similar resettlement procedures that my participants were experiencing. These relationships are not equal because of such factors as age, gender, social status, and study intent. Similarly, these factors complicate the claim of authority over the text as well as how the researched defines the research situation and responds to the interview.10 As indicated earlier, the relationship between the interviewer and the interviewee is never an equal situation, which raises concerns relating to authority and power over the outcome of the research. For example, the oral story or testimony, narrated by the respondent, usually reaches the public in the form of a text presented by the researcher. Therefore, as noted by Sherna B. Gluck and Daphne Patai, “[n]arrators typically are not true partners in the [interview] process. Whatever control they exercise during the interview, when they are able to negotiate the terrain, usually ends once the session is completed . . . it is precisely at this moment, when the individual narrator’s power over the process recedes.”11 Thus, how one transcribes, analyzes, and presents the data becomes vital if the purpose of the research is to enable the participants to tell “their own story.” For instance, after the fieldwork, the researcher transcribes, analyzes, and interprets the data collected. She decides which narratives are included in the text, which ones are left out and why. In this way, the researcher also exercises her authority as an interpreter of the research participants’ testimonies. Interpreting oral interviews is an important part of the process of examining the lived experiences of the research participants. Similarly, researching refugees in a state of transit further affects the researcher/researched equation. This is particularly true when the researcher is from the same community as the participant(s). During my fieldwork endeavor, the “researcher/researched” equation was reversed, as typically I became the subject of a different study. For instance, each time I approached a group of refugees with the hope of convincing some of them to participate in my study, the moment I mentioned that I am studying in Canada,
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I found myself answering questions about the situation in Canada. I allowed them to inquire as much as they wanted before shifting the focus to my study. This strategy enabled me to establish trust and acceptance because most of the refugees are new in Cairo and unknown to me. Insider/Outsider Issue Scholars of the qualitative research approach “have commented on the insider and outsider dilemma of investigators’ experience in research process. [It is argued that] what is at least implicit in the insider/outsider research debate is that the autobiographies, cultures and historical contexts of the researcher matter, these determine what researchers see and do not see, as well as their ability to analyze data and disseminate knowledge adequately.”12 As such, acknowledging one’s subject location is to admit that being a researcher studying one’s own community does not automatically eliminate social differences and unequal power relations between the researcher and the researched. Instead such social differences based on gender, education, class, urban/rural, and the like might outweigh the status of being an insider. In other words, these differences position the researcher both as an insider as well as an outsider at different times and contexts, and may affect the research outcome. As noted by Wharton-Zaretsky (1999), “[a]lthough the researcher can situate herself as the insider, the researcher, because of her role as investigator, cannot escape her outsider status.”13 As a result, the social differences and power dynamics that exist between the researcher and the researched shape both the interview process and the outcome of the interviews. That is, they determine the type of questions asked, how they are asked, and the language used to conduct a particular interview, as well as how to frame the questions. While in Cairo, the refugees were mostly newcomers, but even the lives of some of those I left behind when I migrated to Canada in 1997 also had changed. Thus, I had to relearn how to relate to them in new and different ways. Similarly, being a woman interviewing other women can sometimes pose some challenges. Studies on feminist methodology have shown that women respondents are more forthcoming in interviews with women.14 Although I did not face serious difficulties accessing refugees to participate in my study, it is worth pointing out that I did encounter some minor resistance from some refugees, particularly women, whom I had approached, or were suggested to me by others. For instance, some of the women who refused to participate in the study first wanted to know my ethnic background, level of education, and what would be done with the data collected. Several factors can be attributed to these concerns. One would be the fear that the information they provide, which they regard as private,
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would be made public, despite my assurance that the data will be kept confidential. Similarly, given the political and social structures in Sudan and among refugees in Cairo, which are characterized by interethnic conflicts and differences, as well as the exile context, which revolves around the UNHCR status determination, people are usually suspicious of others. In such a situation, people usually prefer to be secretive and avoid discussing their concerns or private lives with others. Also, the misunderstanding of the essence of my research and the general belief among refugees in Cairo that those engaged in gathering information about refugees usually use the data collected to get money from international NGOs are two other contributing factors behind some people’s refusal to be interviewed. What I noticed during my fieldwork was that it was easier to get a man to be interviewed than a woman. This difference in the way men and women responded to me, is in my opinion might be that the men I approached were not concerned about what kind of a person I was in the first encounter. Such a concern tends to emerge later in the discussion. However, for some women they want to do a background check, either by asking me directly or through other people known to me. Also, some women are suspicious of women conducting research from their community, especially if they are asking questions about issues they regard as private. Although they might agree to be interviewed, they are selective about which experiences to reveal. However, to overcome this and to allow participants to speak freely, the method of posing the questions, when to ask them, and the setting in which the interview is conducted become very important. Also, sharing one’s thoughts and experiences relevant to those of the participant becomes very important. For example, asking the more general questions first, and then moving slowly to follow-up questions allowed me to learn a great deal about the experiences of the many women refugees I interviewed. However, it is worth noting that the privilege of being a southern Sudanese woman and a refugee has helped me interpret some of the cultural meanings usually attached to such issues as gender relations, customary laws, marriage, and the family as understood in southern Sudan. As John H. Stanfield II notes, “[p]eople of color, women, and others traditionally outside the domain of research authority have argued that only those researchers emerging from the life world of their ‘subjects’ can be adequate interpreters of [their] experience.”15 Also, my “refugee status” has allowed some of the participants to realize that “refugee” does not always equate with “victim,” “dependent,” and “vulnerable.” Similarly, being an insider allows access to some information, which is regarded as “sensitive” by the participants. In response to my question about the situation of musharadin, that is, southern Sudanese children living in the streets of
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Cairo, the member of the riyada I interviewed concluded by saying that “I am telling you this because you are a southerner, for we do not talk about these things in public.” The Interview Process The study employs a methodology that uses unstructured questions to guide the interview process. I designed different sets of questions based on the objective of the study, as well as the characteristics of the participants. The questions generally focused on identifying new skills and knowledge learned by participants in exile, and how they used these skills and knowledge to challenge or not to challenge their past, the image of victimized and dependent women refugees, and the strategies they used to imagine a different future. Some sets of questions also focused on the objectives and activities of women’s associations, youth and community leader groups, programs, and services offered to refugees by some international organizations and churches, and the challenges they faced in dealing with the increasing number of Sudanese refugees in Egypt. I also included questions on the role of the church in changing refugees’ perceptions about their spirituality. These questions helped me to elicit information as well as to rate the effectiveness of the refugee programs offered by the international organizations and church groups to improve refugees’ situation. Both English and Juba Arabic languages were used in conducting the interviews.16 I used Juba Arabic to interview refugees who do not know English, and English to interview refugees who prefer English, international organizations, and church personnel who do not know Arabic. Translating what the participants said from Juba Arabic to English sometimes poses the danger of misinterpretation. For example, some words or phrases convey only their precise meaning when used in the original language, rather than a translation. Thus, to overcome this dilemma, I decided to leave some of the terms or phrases in their Arabic form. I used a tape recorder and took notes to record the interviews and group discussions. Throughout the course of the interviews I did not experience much resistance either to the use of tape recording or to note taking. The Study Sample This study draws its participants from the southern Sudanese refugee population living in Cairo, Egypt. This research setting was selected because of the high concentration of southern Sudanese refugees, as well as my familiarity with it.17 The process of selecting the participants for both the individual interviews and group discussions was not an easy task. As I
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mentioned in the introduction, there is no reliable statistical data on all Sudanese refugees in Egypt. As a result, it was difficult to use the conventional method of sample selection. Given this difficulty, I explored alternative methods of sampling during my fieldwork. One of these alternative methods was to rely on my personal judgment as well as on suggestions by community leaders, churches, and some organizations working with Sudanese refugees. Since refugees in Egypt are not settled in refugee camps, the different churches dealing with refugees became the only centers through which I could contact the refugee population. Sample Size and Its Selection Several strategies were used for the selection of the sample. First, personal contacts were made with some leaders of the southern Sudanese refugee community, as well as the priests and staff of the different church groups working with the refugees. These people were informed of the purpose and objectives of the study and what could be expected from the participants. These initial contacts were necessary to establish relations and gain the trust of the refugees. Through frequent visits to the churches, I was able to select some of the participants who would be interviewed individually, by talking to them directly and explaining the purpose and objectives of my study. Some participants were referred to me by friends. To draw refugees to participate in the group discussion, I made contact with leaders of the groups, who in turn helped me contact their members to set the date, time, and place for the discussions. As for the personnel of the international organizations, I contacted them personally by visiting their offices. In the case of the UNHCR where it is difficult to enter the premises without prior arrangement with the staff, I used e-mails. During the time of research, I attended some of the events organized by the refugees, such as the Tuesday meetings organized by the rabita women group, workshops, and church’s Sunday services. In this way, I was able to learn more about some issues affecting refugees as well as convincing some refugees to participate in the study. All the interviews except for one were conducted in locations chosen by the participants. Therefore, some interviews were conducted on the church premises, others in the apartments of the participants, and still others in the offices of the personnel of the international organizations and churches that work with refugees. In total, individual, in-depth interviews were conducted with fifteen women and three men. This sample reflected differences in class, ethnic groupings, region, religion, educational level, age, length of time spent in exile, marital status, and other differences. Recognizing these social differences is necessary because they determine how women refugees are
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differently affected by the refugee conditions, and how their responses to the circumstances in exile vary depending on their social locations. In-depth interviews are necessary because they allow for the understanding of the women refugees’ lives, their perceptions, and the meanings they attach to their experiences. As I. E. Seidman argues, “[t]he purpose of indepth interviewing is not to get answers to questions, nor to test hypotheses and not to ‘evaluate’ . . . the root of in-depth interviewing is an interest in understanding the experience of other people and the meaning they make of the experiences.”18 In addition to the individual interviews with women, I organized four discussion groups: one was with a youth association, referred to here as nesaya, and three were with women’s groups that are referred to as nawsa, rabita, and aswani. I also conducted interviews with ten people from the following organizations, churches, and schools: the organizations include the UNHCR, the IOM, the SPLM/A, and riyada (a sport association for Sudanese youth). The churches include ma’mudiya, al-mughadas, and kamalia. The schools include muwanga, afendiya, and nusiya. Although I was not able to organize a group discussion with the elders of the community because of reasons beyond my control, I interviewed four leaders of the following communities: shela, abanus, lumaring, and zaituna.19 In addition, I reviewed church records on marriages conducted in the church, applications for certificates of traditional marriages, and baptisms conducted in the period 1990–2001. This review was intended to identify patterns and changes in marriage practices as well as to show the role played by the church in influencing refugees’ spiritual lives and perceptions. The review was also necessary in order to provide a clear understanding of how the number of marriages and conversions have increased over the years. For example, using the church records enabled me to trace changes in marriage practices and to understand why southern Sudanese refugees resorted to church to obtain marriage certificate. Analysis of the Data A thematic approach is used in the analysis of the data, which draws on the key concepts of the study. These concepts include exile and how its social, cultural, economic, and political aspects impact women refugees’ lives; gender and gender relations, and how they are understood in the refugee context; and race, racism, and ethnicity, and how they affect the ways in which southern Sudanese are identified, treated, and managed. In this context, the experiences of women refugees were analyzed not solely in relation to their individual experience; rather, their experiences were explored in relation, but not exclusively, to men, the social environment,
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economic conditions, the UNHCR refugee status determination procedure, and the church groups that help refugees. Furthermore, changes in gender roles and relations and in women refugees’ perceptions are analyzed by women refugees’ situation in exile with the southern Sudanese traditional and cultural practices and values that have shaped and continue to shape women’s lives and perceptions. Similarly, the nature of the relationships between the refugees and the host population are analyzed within the broad context of ethnic, race, and class relations in Cairo’s society, historical memories between Egypt and the Sudan, exemplified by the institution of “domestic slavery,” and the cultural, religious, and gender ideologies of the host population toward a woman’s place within its society. As will be illustrated in the following chapters, all these aspects shape and influence the way in which Egyptians perceive, respond, and treat southern Sudanese refugees, whether in the street, public transportation, or in Egyptian homes where southern Sudanese women refugees work as domestic workers. Using a thematic approach in analyzing the data, I was able to identify recurrent themes from the interviews, as well as the different strategies in which the participants responded to life in Cairo. In other words, this approach helped me to understand how the refugee situation has affected the participants depending on their different social locations in the refugee context. Similarly, the themes elicited from the participants allowed me to figure out the nature of the relationship between refugees and the host population, and which groups of women refugees are engaged in the process of challenging the past and the imagining of a different future and which are not. It also helped in identifying specific cultural aspects and laws that some of the women refugees hope to change, as well as the nature and kind of problems faced by refugees in general and women refugees in particular. * * * Selected Profiles of the Study Participants The following participants of my study (with one exception) are drawn from the southern Sudanese refugee community in Cairo. All of them are from the three provinces of southern Sudan, namely Upper Nile, Bahr al-Ghazal, and Equatoria. All the participants migrated from the south to Khartoum, then after living in Khartoum for some time, migrated to Cairo in search of a better life and the possibility of getting resettled in the West. They range in age from twenty-five to late fifties. Most of them are educated and have worked in Sudan before coming to Cairo. One participant is from northern Sudan. She requested to be included in the study to share
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her experience as a domestic worker in Cairo with me. Fifteen participants are female and three are male. 1. Joby Joby came to Egypt in the late 1990s. She was accepted by the UNHCR and was expecting to be resettled in Canada. Joby has a university degree from a Sudanese university. She worked as a government official in Sudan before traveling to Egypt. She is divorced and has brothers and sisters who live in Canada and the United States. During the time of the interview, Joby was working as a live-out domestic worker with an Egyptian family. The money she earned was used to support her mother, sister, other male and female relatives living in Cairo, and herself. Joby was the community leader of their community organization in Cairo during the time of the research. 2. Zuzu Zuzu came to Egypt in February 2001 to attend a conference in Cairo. However, after the conference she decided to remain in Cairo. She has worked in three Egyptian and two northern Sudanese homes. During the time of the interview Zuzu was working as a mubeed (live-in) domestic worker in an Egyptian family. She was not married. Zuzu is from northern Sudan but is included in the study because of her willingness to tell her experience as a domestic worker. She is educated up to secondary level. Zuzu had applied for the UNHCR and was waiting for a refugee status determination interview. 3. Rasha Rasha came to Egypt in March 2001. She is married and has one child. She lives in a two-bedroom apartment with her husband and other relatives. She is educated and has worked with many NGOs in Sudan before coming to Egypt. Rasha has also attended several national and international conferences. She is recognized as a refugee by the UNHCR and is waiting to get resettled in the United States. Rasha was the chairperson of the nawsa women association based in Cairo. 4. Reba Reba came to Egypt in October 1999. She has completed her secondary education and had been enrolled in a university in Sudan. However, she
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was unable to complete her university studies due to some problems related to her political opinions. She is married to a southern Sudanese man who lives in the United States. Her application for the UNHCR was rejected and her file was closed. However, she was in the process of traveling to the United States to join her husband who sponsored her. She attended several workshops and short courses organized for Sudanese women refugees in Cairo. Reba was working with the rabita women group during the time of the interview. She lives with her sister whose husband is also in the United States. They depend on her salary and monthly remittance from her husband and her sister’s husband. She has no children. 5. Du Du came to Egypt in late 2000. Du is a single mother who lives in a twobedroom apartment with her five children, her mother, and six other relatives. She has completed secondary school and had worked in Sudan before migrating to Egypt. Because of health problems Du was not working outside of the home. Instead, she knits and sells her craft to southern Sudanese women who are migrating to the West, and the cash earned is used to support her family. Du has two sisters living in the West who sometimes send her money. 6. Ani Ani came to Egypt in December 1999. Ani lives in a two-bedroom apartment with her four brothers, one sister, and six other relatives. Ani, who was working with the rabita women group during the time of the interview, was the only one who supported the family financially. In the Sudan, Ani completed secondary school and enrolled in a university, but was unable to complete her education. She has worked in Sudan. In Cairo, Ani attended a three-month course organized by the rabita women group for Sudanese women refugees. She is on the staff of the Amal (hope) Sudanese newsletter, which focuses on refugee issues. Ani is not married. 7. Mama Mama came to Egypt in June 2000. She completed secondary school in Sudan. In Sudan, she used to run a small business selling tie-dye clothes and cooked food. Mama is married and has three children. During the time of the interview, Mama was working as a live-out domestic worker to support herself, her children, and her jobless husband. She had also worked as a mubeed (live-in) with an Egyptian family. She was also trained as a tailor
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and a dressmaker. Mama had already applied to the UNHCR and was waiting for a refugee status determination interview. 8. Ziya Ziya came to Egypt in October 2000. She lives with her husband and three children. Ziya dropped out of school at a young age because of financial difficulties while growing up in Sudan. While her husband works, Ziya takes care of their small child. Ziya and her family share an apartment with another family because they cannot afford to rent their own apartment. Ziya had applied to the UNHCR and was waiting for an interview for refugee status determination. 9. Kaku Kaku came to Egypt in December 2000. While in Khartoum, Kaku used to sell dried fish to sustain herself and her children. In Egypt, she was not working but depends on a monthly remittance from her husband who lives in Canada. Kaku has had no formal education. She had registered with the UNHCR and was waiting for an application form for status determination. 10. Saki Saki came to Egypt in August 2000. While she lives with two of her children, her other children remain in southern Sudan. She does not know the whereabouts of her husband. While in Sudan, Saki had worked in both the government and NGOs operating in the south. Saki completed secondary school in Uganda, then studied theology in Zambia for one year. She also attended short courses in Nairobi, Kenya, which were oriented toward women’s programs and gender issues. In Cairo, Saki was not working outside the home, but knits and sells her craft. She also depends on remittance from her daughter who lives in Canada. Saki is registered with the UNHCR and is expecting to get her application form. 11. Glo Glo came to Egypt in November 1999. She came to pursue her postsecondary education. But she was unable to enroll at a college or a university owing to lack of funding. Glo has applied to the UNHCR, did an interview for refugee status determination, but was rejected. She appealed her case and was waiting for a response from the UNHCR. Glo was working as a live-out domestic worker in the residence of Netherlands’s ambassador
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to Egypt. Glo lives in a two-bedroom apartment with six male relatives, and the wife of one of her brothers and her child. They all contribute to the rent and food. Glo is not married. 12. Rox Rox came to Egypt in 1994. She is married and living with her husband, two children, and her mother in a two-bedroom apartment. Rox is educated and works as a teacher in one of the church-based displaced children’s schools in Cairo. Rox has applied to the UNHCR, did the interview for refugee status determination, and was rejected. She was planning to migrate to Australia through a sponsorship from a relative who lives there. 13. Ding Ding came to Egypt in 2000. Ding is an executive committee member and a participant in the group discussion with the nesaya association based in Cairo. He has two wives and six children. However, one of his wives who came to Cairo in 1998 has migrated to the United States with her three children, before he arrived in Cairo with his second wife and three children from Sudan. Ding was a businessman in Khartoum before coming to Egypt. In Cairo, he stays at home caring for his children, while his wife works as a domestic worker with an Egyptian family to support the family. 14. Ome Ome came to Egypt in 1997. She was the leader of the aswani group and a member of the Mothers’ Union, a church-based group located in one of the churches in Cairo. Ome has three grown children, two of whom are living with her in Cairo. She has worked as a teacher in Sudan. Ome had no plans of seeking resettlement at the time of the interview. 15. Gon Gon came to Egypt in June 2000. She has six grown children, but joined her son in Cairo. She has applied to the UNHCR, did the interview for refugee status determination, and was waiting for the results. Her son’s wife works as a domestic worker with an Egyptian family to support their family. Gon has no formal education and like Ome, she is a member of the Mothers’ Union.
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16. Marc Marc came to Egypt in 2000. She is one of the participants of the rabita training program of health worker providers. Since she came to Cairo, she has worked as a domestic worker in several Egyptian homes. Then after receiving training, she worked as a health care provider for a senior Egyptian man. She got the job through the rabita office, of which she is also a member. She was not working at the time of the interview. Marc has applied to the UNHCR, did the interview for refugee status determination, and was waiting for the results. Marc lives with four of her older brother’s male friends and another female friend in a three-bedroom apartment. Marc is not married. She has completed secondary level in Sudan. Marc sometimes goes to the church to get financial assistance and sometimes receives remittance from her older brother who lives in the Netherlands. 17. Ale Ale came to Egypt in 1999. Ale is a member of the musa’adin program and was trained as a musa’ad. He works with the ma’mudiya church in a program designed to support African refugees. He is married and has two children. He is recognized as a refugee by the UNHCR and was in the process of being resettled in Canada at the time of the interview. Ale has a formal education. 18. Yak Yak came to Egypt in early 2000. He is a member of the executive committee of the nesaya association based in Cairo. He used to work in Sudan before traveling to Egypt. He was in charge of the program planning and designing of the association.
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CHAPTER 5 SOCIOCULTURAL INSTITUTIONS AND LAWS GOVERNING THE SOUTHERN SUDANESE SOCIETY
PART ONE In this chapter, I deal with the sociocultural institutions and laws governing the southern Sudanese society. These cover a range of issues relating to cultural practices, perceptions, laws, and social institutions that have played and continue to play a significant role in shaping and determining women’s and men’s position in southern Sudan. Through analyzing these issues, I have been able to trace changes and transformations among and between southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in exile. Such analysis also helps in understanding women’s and men’s responses to changing circumstances in Cairo. Similarly, the chapter also analyzes the resettlement program and its implication for many aspects of refugee lives, particularly its impact on the patterns and meanings of marriage, and the institution of the family. The resettlement program is very important to analyze because it represents a turning point in the lives of many refugees. A “family” in this context refers to the nuclear and polygamous family unit common in contemporary southern Sudan. Culture in the context of this book refers to the learned customs, belief systems, language, ideas, arts, social relationships, and other behaviors and characteristics that are shared by a group of people who inhabit a particular territory. As learned behavior, culture is passed from one generation to another through the process of socialization. Similarly, culture is also conceptualized as nonstatic and it changes over time and space due to changing circumstances that affect people’s lives and perceptions. As people move across borders, their way of life, thinking, and perceptions also change as they tend to acquire new skills, knowledge, and ideas. However, this process of change does not
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imply complete alteration of previously acquired cultural practices and way of life. Rather, some cultural aspects and practices are either retained and/or modified to necessitate adjustment and adaptation to the new social environment. Sociocultural Features in Southern Sudan The cultural, religious, racial, ethnic, and historical diversity in Sudan, in general, and in southern Sudan, in particular, does not allow for easy generalizations about its society, culture, and laws. However, despite this diversity, one can argue that common features and systems exist that affect women similarly, regardless of their ethnic identity and position in the society. Within the scope of this chapter, such aspects as gender, gender relations and roles, different positioning of women and men, family or personal laws governing the southern Sudanese society, polygamy, and the levirate or the institution of widow inheritance will be considered. These features are important because they represent the areas that directly affect a large number of women’s lives and experiences. Furthermore, it is within these areas where renegotiations, contestations, and transformations occur between men and women in exile. Studies on the forms of marriage have made a distinction between polygyny and polyandry. The former refers to a practice where a man has more than one wife living with him at the same time, and the latter when a woman has more than one husband at the same time.1 The term polygamy, which is sometimes used interchangeably with polygyny, might refer either to the practice of a man living with his wives in the same household, as it was in the past, or to the practice of each wife having her separate house in different neighborhoods and the husband rotating between his wives, as it tends to be increasingly common in urban areas. In the context of this study, I use the term polygamy to refer to a practice where a man has more than one wife at the same time, either living with him in the same house or in separate houses. Like many Sub-Saharan African societies, the southern Sudanese society has undergone many transformations resulting from foreign invasions, particularly the British colonial rule (1898–1956), which brought the colonial patriarchy, the introduction of a “Victorian ideology of domesticity,” and the imposition of the doctrine of separate spheres. Writings by many African feminists suggest that class, race, and sexual inequalities that existed in Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were reflected in many aspects of colonial, legal, and administrative treatment of the colonized people.2 Amina Mama has identified two sides of colonial patriarchy in Africa, namely “violent and benevolent patriarchy.”3 On the one hand, there was
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widespread violation and degradation of African women through forced prostitution, rape, and sexual abuse. Reference to violence against African women during the colonial period in Africa does not mean that such violence did not exist in precolonial Africa, nor that violence against women ended in postcolonial African societies. Instead violence against women has continued and has become widespread throughout many postcolonial African states. Practices such as rape, FGM, forced marriage, wife beating, and sexual harassment are among many forms of violence against women, which are still common. Reports by human rights organizations reveal evidence of women being sexually abused and tortured into submission by both repressive regimes and by rebel forces in many war-ravaged African countries. The consequence of Sudan’s civil war upon women’s lives is a good example.4 On the other hand, there is the other side of colonial patriarchy “which sought to ‘domesticate’ a significant number of African women” through the introduction of “a bourgeois Victorian ideology of domesticity in Africa.”5 For instance, missionaries, colonial officials, and administrators, through educational and religious institutions, disseminated this ideology. Furthermore, the curricula of colonial education in Africa emphasized subjects that differentiate between public and domestic spheres, with the latter exclusively occupied by women.6 In her study of colonial and missionary education in Uganda, Nakanyike Musisi argues that the formal education offered to women by the missionaries and colonial government “did not go beyond preparing women for the domestic life, nor did it differ significantly from pre-colonial education for women. The methods and philosophy of the missionaries were greatly influenced by the ideologies of domesticity prevalent at the turn of the century in both Uganda and Britain.”7 Such methods and ideologies have further implications on gender relations and roles. Despite the fact that women in southern Sudan shoulder familial responsibilities ranging from child care to food production and processing, men are always regarded as heads of the household. This claim is reinforced both by the colonial legacy of patriarchy noted by Amina Mama above and by the traditional belief that the man is the protector and breadwinner, whereas women are caretakers of the family. Different Social Positions of Women and Men The different social positioning of women and men in southern Sudan is determined by the roles, duties, and behavior each is expected to perform and display. Socially women are expected to behave in particular ways prescribed by the society. For instance, women’s involvement in politics and other public activities is restricted or discouraged because it is assumed that
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men control the public sphere whereas women’s roles are confined to the home or agricultural activities, especially in the rural areas. The public/domestic dichotomy as well as masculine and feminine ideals in southern Sudan context take root right from childhood as sons and daughters are socialized differently according to their parents’ roles in both the family and society, respectively. Thus, male and female children are taught to perform specific roles, which are inculcated in their minds since the time of birth. This socialization takes place in early childhood, during which girls and boys learn the appropriate roles and behavior for their sex. For instance, girls are taught how to carry out household chores like cooking, cleaning, agricultural work, and family responsibilities, and to respect their parents and elders. Similarly, boys are encouraged to learn how to be courageous and strong since they are deemed to be the future protectors of the family. Such institutions as the family, education (both formal and informal), and the media play important roles in perpetuating this process.8 Therefore, when a girl or a boy becomes an adult, each knows which role she or he is expected to play. Masculinity and femininity are usually seen in opposition, with the former being superior to the latter. According to the Nuer masculine ideals, for instance, “[t]he man should be the ruler of the home, and his wife should unquestioningly act according to his will.”9 Similarly, children are raised to obey and respect their parents, particularly their fathers and other elderly people in the society. For instance, daughters are expected to respect and obey their male relatives. Upon marriage, this respect is transferred to their husbands and male in-laws. Through obedience, respect, hard work, and mutual understanding, married women achieve the praise and love of men. Furthermore, within the family, and in the larger society, male children are preferred over female. This preference emerges from the cultural belief that male children are the heirs and preservers of the family line, whereas females are not since they will be married off to other families. Thus, a woman’s failure to bear male children is usually a ground for conflict, not only between the woman and her husband, but also with her inlaws. Such a situation sometimes leads a man to experience pressure from his parents and relatives to consider either marrying a second wife or resorting to an extramarital affair that might result in pregnancy. Gender Relations and Gender Division of Labor Social relations and roles are strictly gendered in southern Sudan. “Social relation” is used here to refer to the gendered dimension of the social relations structuring the lives of individual women and men such as the gendered division of labor and gender division of access to and control of
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resources.10 Social relations between women and men are characterized in southern Sudan by men’s imposition of their power and authority over women. Within the family and society, women usually occupy a subordinate position compared to men. This is evident in the fact that women are not involved in decision making regarding major family and societal matters such as marriage discussions, financial, legal, and political issues. Moreover, men exert their power and authority over women through the control of women’s mobility, their bodies, and their sexuality. According to Reba, one of the participants, “[i]n the past, when a young, unmarried woman wants to go out, she must ask permission from her parents and must come home early before dark. Returning home early is important so as to avoid interrogation and neighbors’ suspicion about her.”11 Therefore, restrictions placed on women’s movement or involvement in public life is in a way intended to control women’s bodies and sexuality. Thus, the idea of a single woman, whether unmarried or divorced, having her own home is not tolerated, and further, she would be regarded as a “bad” or “loose” woman, and thus a threat to social order of the society. Similarly, emphasizing procreation as the main objective of marriage represents another strategy through which men control women’s bodies and sexuality. As John W. Makec argued in his study of the Dinka12 customary law, “[a] man has absolutely exclusive rights over the private part of his wife which, may be described as sacred.”13 Thus, men have exclusive rights to a woman’s reproduction as well as to their sexuality. Furthermore, Jok Madut Jok, in his study of the women of western Dinka in the war zone of southern Sudan, pointed out that “[i]n the name of reproduction, a man assumes the right to the woman’s sexual services. The rules of sexual taboo are easily breached when the husband is determined to expose his wife to pregnancy before he is taken away for his military duties.”14 For him, if he leaves and his wife is not pregnant, the woman might seek extramarital affairs with other men.15 In the areas of political power, property ownership and public events, such as the performance of rituals, particularly in rural areas, or the organizing of political rallies, women occupy less important roles compared to men. For example, women are not allowed to own property. In the case of inheritance, male children always have the right to inherit properties within the family. As Jean Buxton notes in her study of the Mandari people of southern Sudan, “Mandari women, though displaying dignity of person, independent mindedness and influence, are still from the point of view of property-ownership and the exercise of political power, much less advantageously placed than men.”16 The division of labor is also gendered in southern Sudan. Work that is carried out within the confines of the home, such as food producing and
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processing, cleaning, fetching of water and firewood, child rearing, and so on, is regarded as women’s work. In contrast, hunting, especially in rural areas, politics, fighting wars, and all other work performed outside the home are regarded as men’s work. Men are also responsible for the disciplining of children. As such, boundaries between the domestic and public spheres are defined by the nature of the work that women and men perform. Crossing from one world to another is, therefore, regarded as a transgression and thus generates a conflict situation, which has become more prevalent, particularly during the war and among refugees in exile. Thus, because of this understanding of the division of labor, men in a refugee context sometimes find it difficult to take up familial roles and accept the fact that women are the ones earning money to support the family. Laws Governing Southern Sudan Society There are three primary sources of law in Sudan in general. These include Islamic Shari’a or law, customary law, and general territorial or English laws. Although all three sources are tapped in Sudan, it is necessary in the context of this study to note that both Islamic Shari’a and customary law are administered to address personal and private matters, such as marriages, inheritance, and some property rights issues, of the Muslim and non-Muslim Sudanese, respectively. As for the English law, it is mainly confined to areas such as “law of contract, torts, commercial law, evidence, procedure, conflict of laws and some parts or aspects of property and public law.”17 Despite the fact that current Sudanese Islamic Shari’a is supposed to deal with the personal Muslim issues whereas customary law is to be for nonMuslims in Sudan, points of convergence and contestation can be identified between the two sources, particularly in matters such as marriage, inheritance, polygamy, child custody, and property ownership. My review of the two systems of law suggests that both Shari’a and customary law restrict women’s rights to civil and political rights, in particular, the right to hold a high public office that involves making decisions concerning national affairs. Both laws allow men to practice polygamy. For example, in Islam “[a] man can marry up to four wives and divorce any of them at will without having to justify or explain his decision to any person or authority.”18 Similarly, customary law allows a man to marry more than one wife without specifying the number of the wives. Some men in the south, particularly chiefs, have married up to ten or fifteen wives. Another point of convergence between the two systems of law as practiced in Sudan is that they both grant “the husband the right to exercise guardianship and control over his wife [or wives] to the extent of chastising her [them] in a variety of ways,” including the administration of beatings.19
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Furthermore, on the issue of inheritance, both systems of law discriminate on grounds of gender. Whereas Shari’a states a “female is entitled to half the share of a male who has the same degree of relationship to the deceased,”20 customary law as practiced in the south does not allow a female to inherit, on the grounds that she will be married off to another family. Two major differences between Islamic Shari’a and customary law are that whereas Shari’a is written, very few customary law systems in the south exist in written form. The majority of the systems is not documented. For example, the “Customary Law of the Dinka”21 written by John A. Makec documents how the law deals with personal issues such as marriage, divorce, adultery, child custody, and dispute settlement among the Dinka. Makec also helped draft and enact the “Bahr el Ghazal Customary Law Act [of] 1964. This Act comprises three customary law codes [of] Dinka, Luo and Fertit”22 ethnic groups. Also the Nuer customary law has been recorded but needs revision and elaboration. However, most of the systems of other ethnic groups in the south are unwritten.23 Whereas Shari’a draws on the Qur’an as the basis of its content and interpretation, customary law draws on the unwritten customs, values, and traditions of the different ethnic groups in the south, as well as on the oral interpretations of chiefs and the male elders of the society. As I explained in chapter 1 of this book, the official discourse in the Sudan emphasized and continues to emphasize the Islamic and Arab character of the Sudanese state. As such, the successive regimes in Sudan have striven to impose Shari’a in the public and private lives of all Sudanese people, both Muslims and non-Muslims. However, continued attempts to impose Shari’a have been met with resistance particularly by southern Sudanese. For instance, the first attempt to impose Shari’a in the Sudan as a “public law” affecting all people was in September 1983, during Jaafar Mohammed Nimeiri’s regime (1969–1985).24 However, southern Sudan is governed by a dual legal system, in which customary law exists side by side with the English law, due to the failure of the policies of Islamization. Despite the practice of both systems of law, customary law predominates and governs the private issues relating to family, the home, property ownership, inheritance, marriage, divorce, maintenance, and child custody. According to Aleu A. Jok, Robert A. Leitch, and Carrie Vandewint, “over 90% of day-to-day criminal and civil cases [in southern Sudan] are executed under Customary Law.”25 Customary Law in Southern Sudan A recent study of customary law in southern Sudan defines it as “the body of traditions, mores, social conventions and rules that through long usage
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and widespread acceptance direct and govern traditional African society.”26 The study further defines the word “custom” in the context of customary law as “local custom originating by usage in the Sudan, and is not applicable to the imported rule of law of foreign origin.”27 As I have already noted above, many customary law systems in the south are not written. In addition, customary law varies from one ethnic group to the other and owing to the changing circumstances in Sudan, in general, and in the south, in particular, customary law changes over time, making it very difficult to implement. Furthermore, since the majority of customary law systems is not documented or unwritten it poses serious challenges in local courts, especially when it is applied to issues affecting women’s lives. This is because its interpretation rests on and is dominated solely by the male chief and the committee of elders of each ethnic group concerned. In my opinion, this has negative consequences for women. Despite its variety and changing nature, customary law affects southern Sudanese women similarly across ethnic and class lines. For example, almost all cases of marriage, divorce, and child custody are dealt with in local courts headed by local chiefs assisted by committees of elders representing each ethnic group. To avoid local courts, some people tend to settle such cases between members of the two families involved. Among many ethnic groups in the south, for example, the legality of marriage does not lie with the state, but rests on an agreement between the two families concerned.28 This situation thus diminishes the priority of registration and certification, particularly in rural areas. Although some Christian southern Sudanese conduct their marriages according to church tradition, still the initial stages of marriage—consent, payment of the bride wealth, and elders’ blessings—are conducted according to the customs and traditions of the ethnic groups involved. Only at a later stage will the couple go to church for further blessings. Cases of divorce and child custody or problems arising in marriage or in the family are also dealt with in accordance with the customary law of each ethnic group. In such situations, women are usually at a disadvantage since they have no power or authority to claim their rights as mothers in a maledominated local court or family. For example, a man usually invokes the issue of bride wealth when a child custody case arises, in order to justify his right to child custody. As is explained later in this chapter, one of the main purposes behind the payment of bride wealth is to transfer membership of the woman from her father’s family to that of her husband, and “to make any children resulting from the marriage legitimate members of the [man’s] family.”29 Similarly, owing to the patriarchal beliefs deeply rooted in the society, which are reinforced by the colonial experiences, a child born out of
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marriage is always seen as belonging to the father. Whether the child is raised by the mother alone, or with the support of her family, the father usually assumes his “natural” right of custody. Such a father might claim his child(ren) from the mother through the child(ren)’s maternal uncles and other male relatives from the mother’s side. During the negotiation process, the decision to allow the child(ren) to establish relationship with the father, to hand over or not to hand over the child(ren) to his/her biological father is the responsibility of the maternal uncles and other male relatives. The mother of the child(ren) has no say in such negotiations or decisions. Under such circumstances, a mother who wants or attempts to get involved or to argue in support of the well being of her child(ren) is usually seen as disobeying her brothers and male relatives, and dishonoring the family. Therefore, in nearly all the ethnic groups in southern Sudan, women have no right to the custody of their children. The general rule is that children from birth always belong to their father, and in the case of divorce, the children revert to their father. Younger children, for example, those still breastfeeding when divorce occurs, are usually left with their mother until they are 6 or 7 years of age and are then given to the father. Divorce process as understood in southern Sudan differs from that in northern Sudan, which is based on Shari’a, and in the West. As noted earlier, most divorce cases in southern Sudan occur in local courts administered by chiefs, where the procedure differs from that in civil courts where lawyers and judges predominate. For example, the distribution of property, the ownership of the family/marital home, child or spousal support issues are not usually addressed or taken seriously either by the courts or by the husband. When divorce occurs, it is usually the wife who is forced out of the marital home whereas the husband remains. When the divorce is settled in a local court, and when the husband is required to pay child support to the wife, some husbands ignore the issue of child support since there are no mechanisms set in place to enforce such decisions. As a result, the wife is left alone struggling to raise the children. When the husband marries another woman, the children are in most cases taken from their mother and are raised by the step-mother, a situation which creates tension between the women concerned. Similarly, because bride wealth is involved—in the form of cattle, among the cattle keepers, and cash and goats among the agriculturalists— women find it difficult to seek divorce because such a move will always trigger the return of the bride wealth by the wife’s family to the husband’s family. Therefore, to avoid divorce, members of the two families usually get involved to settle any dispute that arises between the couple. Although a man can decide to divorce his wife by his own free will, divorce is not
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usually encouraged, particularly when children are involved. As noted by Paul S. Bwogo, “[d]ivorce is rare among the Collo [or Shilluk ethnic group]. For the Collo, marriage is a social institution that must be kept intact at all cost. Therefore, divorce is not an individual decision matter, but it involves the whole extended family, which will decide whether the case at hand really warrants a divorce or not. In most cases, it is the husband who decides to divorce his wife but not the other way round.”30 Marriage Process and Polygamy Traditionally marriage is an important institution among southern Sudanese people. In general terms, marriage is the bringing of two (or more) families or clans together for peaceful coexistence. “It is a bond that is essential for sexual satisfaction, progression into manhood and womanhood, establishing relationship between clans and growth of the family.”31 Similarly, women are important as wives and mothers since their reproductive capacity is crucial to the maintenance of the husband’s lineage. Since progression into manhood and womanhood is determined by getting married and bearing children, it is common, for example, for southerners to refer to an unmarried female as a “girl” and an unmarried male as a “boy,” even if she/he is over 18 years of age.32 In other words, to become a woman and thus be respected, she must be married and must bear children. Similarly, manhood is determined by making a woman pregnant. For women “marriage meant the achievement of high status associated with being a married woman, having children and gaining respectability in the society.”33 Furthermore, marriage is usually understood in terms of a union between a man and one or more women. For instance, the Dinka family law defines marriage as a union between one man or his successor and one or more women for their lives for the purpose of sexual cohabitation, procreation of the young and maintenance of the homestead, provided that such union may take place between one barren or childless woman and another, or others [for] whom male consorts are provided; provided also that such union may take place between a deceased male person and one or more women through his successor.34
Based on this definition of marriage, it is important to clarify here that the union between a childless woman who remains in the family of her husband and another woman or women does not apply to all ethnic groups in southern Sudan. Similarly, such a union should not be interpreted as lesbianism because, “male consorts are provided” who will procreate with the woman or women who is/are in union with the childless woman. This
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point is clearly noted by Jok M. Jok who argued that “to reward the barren woman for loyal services to the family and economic contribution, she becomes a ‘social man.’ At old age, the family of her husband may marry a wife for her to whom she assigns a man to procreate. The children from this arrangement belong to the lineage of her husband.”35 According to these definitions of marriage, polygamy is a common practice among almost all ethnic groups in the south. Southern Sudan customs and traditions allow a man to marry as many wives as he can “maintain” well, that is, provide them with shelter and agricultural land particularly in rural areas. Polygamy has also been regarded as a way of displaying wealth and power. A chief or any rich and powerful man, for example, may have several wives who will share the household tasks and will provide him with children. Based on the above understanding of polygamy, one can say that the belief that a man can have multiple partners or wives is deeply rooted in people’s consciousness early in life. Many factors allow a man to prove his manliness, and they vary from one ethnic group to the other, as well as from rural to urban areas. While growing up, for instance, a young man, particularly in urban areas, who has multiple partners or girlfriends usually thinks of himself as being manly enough to have sexual relations with his partners simultaneously. Those few young men, who tend to refrain from involving in sexual relations with several women, or those who tend to restrict their relationship to only one woman, are usually seen as unmanly, or as not “real” men. It is common to hear many young men making fun of such men. During my fieldwork several interpretations were offered by some participants to justify the practice of polygamy. Most also distinguished between interpretations based on traditions, and those based on rural and urban contexts. First, in the past, especially in rural areas, polygamy was seen as a solution to societal problems. For instance, participant Ding noted that “among some Dinka people, a girl who has passed her marital age, or a woman with disability, can be married off to a man who is already married to several wives.”36 This is due to the traditional understanding that a woman remaining unmarried for a long time is usually seen as a problem, and thus a threat to the social order. The decision to remain single or unmarried is not always seen as a choice by the woman concerned, that is, whether or not it is her decision to remain unmarried. In such a situation, polygamy is seen as a solution to a social problem, as well as a way of assuring male guardianship for the woman. Second, polygamy is seen as a way of avoiding divorce and the subsequent conflict between the two families or clans involved, since divorce partly entails the return of bride wealth by the bride’s family to the groom’s
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family, particularly if there are no children. For example, as Ding argues, a “woman who is lazy, and is not taking proper care of her house, husband and in-laws, will not be divorced sometimes. Instead, her husband will decide to marry a second wife. Therefore, a woman’s success in her home is based on her activeness and hard work. Thus, a lazy woman has no place even if she is beautiful.”37 Given this understanding, a link is always established between hard work and being a good wife. Also, as I indicated earlier, in a case where a wife failed to bear children, or to bear male children in particular, a husband will decide either to marry a second wife or will engage in extramarital affairs to increase his chances of having children. The failure to bear children is always seen as the woman’s problem, not the man’s. Upon marriage, for example, a woman is expected to get pregnant within the first 3–6 months after marriage. A woman’s failure to become pregnant in a given period of time usually raises several questions and sometimes leads to a misunderstanding between husband and wife, and between the wife and her in-laws. Questions commonly asked, particularly by in-laws and relatives, include “how is the wife of so and so? Is she pregnant or not? Why is it taking long for her to get pregnant?” The childbearing burden of proof is always placed on the woman. She is usually pressured to seek treatment either through the use of local remedies as is common in rural areas or through medical advice, without even identifying whether the fertility complications are hers or not. In such situations, the man is always seen as blameless until proven otherwise. In other words, as Jok M. Jok notes, “[w]hen a year passes without pregnancy, questions are raised about the fertility of the woman, and childlessness is a target that, because of disappointment, the woman may at best be suspected of misconduct and at worst, but rarely, be divorced.”38 Third, the practice of polygamy is seen as a family planning or birth control method, and as a way of limiting husband’s extramarital sexual relationships. As Reba noted, “[i]n the past, the Dinka used to marry four to five wives just for the husband to have many children and to help the wives in birth control. In this way, the husband keeps on rotating between his wives as he wishes. This allows him to have sex continuously while the wives control their birth cycle.”39 For example, if one wife is pregnant or is breastfeeding, the husband will be with the other who is not. In other words, as William G. Blum clearly put it, “a prolonged period of sexual abstinence (from the part of a woman due to breast-feeding, pregnancy or menstruation) is sometimes cited . . . as a justification for the practice of polygyny. An additional wife would permit a man to carry on normal conjugal relations, while his other wife would be observing the particular taboos noted above.”40
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Based on the above definition of marriage and the different interpretations of polygamy provided so far, one can see that women are clearly discriminated against on many fronts. Men have the right to control women’s lives and bodies, and as a result, women are stripped of their right to define marriage and social relations on their own terms. In other words, the practice of marrying for the sole purpose of sexual cohabitation and procreation subjects women’s bodies and sexuality to male control and exploitation, without considering the health or reproductive risks that may affect women’s physical and emotional well being. In these situations, women have little say or control over their own fertility, as well as encouraging the practice of polygamy with all its forms and interpretations. Similarly, viewing polygamy as a problem-solving strategy makes it especially difficult for women to challenge and eradicate the practice completely. The Institution of Widow Inheritance Since custom allows men to have several wives, the existence of the institution of “widow inheritance,” as well as the “levirate or ghost marriage” has been common among southern Sudanese, especially in the past and in the rural areas. These practices, which are again linked to the payment of bride wealth, amplify in my view other means by which women are subjected to men’s authority and power.41 As noted by Benaiah N. Duku, “[o]nce a woman is married to a family and bride-wealth is paid, she is considered as family asset/wealth, referred to locally as tor’buti lo mede. [Thus] she has no right to desert the family when the husband dies . . . [instead she is] inherited by the deceased’s brother or cousin. For a polygamist who is old and has grown up sons, his younger wife is inherited by the elder son.”42 Similarly, among the Nyangwara ethnic group, a young widow of reproductive age is usually required by her marital family to be inherited by the deceased husband’s brother or relative to continue childbearing. Children born out of this union are regarded as the children of the deceased.43 Thus, to avoid the return of the bride wealth, which is the concern of men, or to avoid the separation of a mother from her children, a woman is subordinated to such interests. Despite the spread of Christianity in southern Sudan, and the changing social and economic situations in the south due to war, displacement, and political instability, polygamy still predominates. For instance, not all aspects of Christian marriage are strictly followed or valued, since some men who are married according to the church tradition still engage in extramarital affairs. Similarly, as Jok Madut Jok argues in his study of the
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women of western Dinka ethnic group, “[d]espite some changes in Dinka marriage patterns . . . the core of the system in the community remains the same.” He went further to argue that “Dinka is a polygamous society, with 45–60 per cent of men having more than one wife at some point in their lives.”44 Therefore, one can argue that customary law, which is rooted in the customs, traditions, and cultural practices of the southern Sudan, has contributed to the suppression of women’s view points, and their subordination and exclusion from the public arena. The pressures women experience as a result of the dictates of custom and cultural values further make many women to internalize their subordinate position. As a result, some women became reluctant to struggle for their rights or to get involved in politics, public decision-making positions, and to challenge some of the cultural practices that are oppressive to women. However, while women are discriminated against within the customary law, they still find empowerment in some aspects of the traditional cultural practices as well. For example, at old age women gain powerful positions as ritual performers, midwives, spiritual experts, and healers. Similarly, women gain respect for their role as mothers of new members of the community. On the other hand, polygamy represents another area that led to the subordination of women and their disunity. In southern Sudan, for example, polygamy is one of the major causes of domestic disputes and family problems as well as partly contributing to a lack of solidarity among women at the community level. Struggle over a husband’s limited financial support and emotional attention makes co-wives resentful of each other. Such resentment, which results from an unequal distribution of financial assistance, land, and other favors, sometimes pushes women to engage in practices such as witchcraft with an aim of winning the heart of the husband. Some women in nonpolygamous families might also engage in such practices to prevent the husband from the possibility of engaging in extramarital sexual relationships, or from marrying another wife. It is still common in the south, especially in urban areas, to see both married and unmarried women seeking the services of a fortune-teller who they believe is able to foresee the direction of one’s marriage or relationship.45 Because of the economic pressures facing families, as well as the spread of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases, polygamy as an institution for solving social problems has long lost its meaning. As a result, polygamy and extramarital affairs are seen as risks to the health and well being of the family. For instance, the AIDS epidemic has made married women both inside Sudan and in exile more concerned about their family’s well being, health, and livelihood due to the threat of second wives, or husbands’ infidelity.46
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PART TWO Resettlement Program and Its Implication for Many Aspects of Refugee Lives In addition to uprootedness and economic pressures that led to the alteration of many cultural practices among southern Sudanese refugees, the resettlement program designed for refugees in Cairo has further accelerated the process of altering some traditions and cultural practices of the southern Sudanese society. Some of the most affected cultural practices include the patterns and meaning of marriage, and the unity of the institution of the family. Deteriorating conditions in the Middle East region, particularly in Sudan, led the UNHCR Cairo office to promote a resettlement program, both as an instrument of protection and as a durable solution for the refugees living in Egypt.47 The limited prospects for local integration into Egypt, particularly for southern Sudanese, have made resettlement the best option.48 According to the UNHCR official I interviewed, the main reason to recommend resettlement as a solution for a large number of people is the lack of opportunities in which “a refugee can build for himself/ herself life in Egypt. In addition, there are already economic problems in Egypt that means it is not always easy to find a job anywhere.” As a protection and durable solution, resettlement poses many challenges to both the refugees and some of the international organizations and church groups dealing with the refugees in Cairo. In the following pages I illustrate how the resettlement program contributed to changes in many aspects of the refugees’ lives. These aspects include, among others, the patterns and meaning of marriage, the issue of idafa (i.e., addition or inclusion of a partner in the file of someone who is recognized by the UNHCR), and the different interpretations attached to it, the unity of the family, and the challenges facing polygamous families. Focusing on these aspects is necessary because they are the ones most affected by the resettlement process, and the most demanding to the resettling countries. Also, it is within these areas that negotiations and tensions among women and between women and men occur. Changing Patterns and Meaning of Marriage As noted earlier in this chapter, marriage in the past was viewed as the knitting together of two families or clans for a peaceful coexistence. Marriage is also regarded as important for the continuity of the man’s lineage and expansion of his clan through procreation. However, due to war, displacement, and the changing circumstances in exile, such as resettlement, the
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patterns and meaning of marriage have changed. Madawi Al-Racheed in his study of exiled Iraqi women in London showed how “exile leads to the reconstruction of the meaning of marriage which in their minds becomes associated with security, family life and stability in general,”49 rather than with the achievement of high status. Such a situation applies to the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees in exile and inside Sudan as well. In the war-affected areas in Sudan, and in the refugee camps in the neighboring countries of Kenya and Uganda, where security of women, especially was and is at risk, marriage has become more associated with security and protection. To protect their daughters from rape or sexual abuse by rebel and/or government armed forces, or to reduce economic pressure on the family, for instance, many parents in the war zone during the “north-south” conflict have given up their daughters for marriage at a younger age. Similarly, in Cairo where refugees were pursuing resettlement to a third country as the only suitable option for overcoming their suffering, marriage has increasingly become associated with material gain, personal interest, and the possibility of getting out of Cairo. This situation has been reflected in the increasing number of marriages, mostly through the idafa of one partner in the file of the other who is already recognized by the UNHCR and was either being processed or in the process for resettlement. Stories from relatives and friends already resettled either in North America or in Europe suggested that men especially need a partner if they wish to make a strong case for resettlement. According to many refugees, if one migrates as a single man, it will be more expensive to sponsor a wife from Sudan or Egypt; therefore, it is wise to personally look for the right spouse before emigrating.50 Such stories have encouraged many of the refugee men planning to migrate to look for wives before leaving. Because of the lengthy status determination procedure at the UNHCR, as well as the uncertainty involved in such a procedure, idafa has become the fasttrack option for both women and men who are not recognized as refugees and are in dire need to leave Egypt. Different interpretations were given by participants regarding the issue of idafa and the resulting increase in the number of marriages among refugees. The participants provided three possible explanations as to why idafa occurs. The first explanation is that there are those refugees who include partners in their UNHCR files based on their previous romantic relations, and their determination to get married and establish a family. In such cases, resettlement is not seen as the main factor behind their decision to get married. Second, some women or men who are recognized by the UNHCR tend to add either their male relatives or friends as husbands or wives just to get
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them out of Cairo. In such cases, idafa is seen as a good gesture by those including a name in their file. Inclusion of a relative or a friend as a husband or a wife (which is very rare) occurs, because, as Ani argues, “[i]t is unwise to go to the UNHCR and say that this is my cousin, brother/sister or nephew [who is 18 years or older, and is rejected or waiting to have his/her status determined] and I want him/her included in my file.”51 This is because the UNHCR policy clearly states that those family members who are 18 years or older must apply on their own, independently of their parents. Since married partners are required to provide a marriage certificate or other documents as proof of their marriage, many refugees resort to the church or some refugee community organizations to obtain a “certificate of traditional marriage.” Upon arrival in the resettling country, the couple believe such marriage will cease to exist, and each partner goes his/her separate way. However, the implication of such arrangement is that, when the couple arrive at their final destinations, such as Canada, United States of America, or Australia, and each goes his/her own way, the burden of paying back travel expenses to the resettling government or the sponsor rests with the principal applicant, which in most cases is the woman. Similarly, some women refugees are encouraged to include male relatives or friends in their files, to facilitate their lives in the new country, because some of the women refugees who have been resettled or are being processed for resettlement have no knowledge of the English language which is the main language of most of the resettling countries. According to the leader of the zaituna community organization I interviewed [s]ome of the women from our community do not know English. When they arrived in America they found themselves in trouble due to lack of language. To address this problem, it was suggested that those single women who are recognized by the UNHCR should include men in their files and migrate together. When they agree, the community organization looks for young men who know English and single women who do not know English to include them in their files. The women have the right to choose whom they want to include.
In this way, idafa is seen as a way of helping someone out of a difficult situation. However, it was noted by many participants that such cases are very few as compared to the third possibility. The third interpretation of idafa is based purely on selfish interests and is in most cases regarded by many participants as exploitative in nature. In this situation, most of those who enter into such an agreement either have no previous knowledge of each other or have no past romantic relationship. According to an official of the IOM I interviewed, “[t]here are cases of people who got married [through idafa] and you really can see that they
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have never stayed together. This is because, during the interviews conducted with refugees referred from the UNHCR to our office, such partners either keep quiet or they argue differently and we really find that they have not been together.” Based on the above narrative, clearly the only reason the two entered into such a marriage was to get out of Egypt. Some participants view all the circumstances within which idafa occurs exploitative, particularly in the third interpretation and especially for those women who include men in their files. According to Ani, “[w]hen a woman is accepted by the UNHCR, many men will approach her and they will start talking about marrying her, even though the idea of marriage was not there before she was accepted.”52 Given that it is human nature for people to talk about what is going on in their lives, it is not surprising that southern Sudanese refugees talk with their friends about the circumstances that led them to be included in someone’s file. Many participants believe that many men who seek idafa into women’s files are just exploiting women without even appreciating the generosity and the help that these women have offered them. The following conversation between two men that Ani overheard illustrates the complexities within the idafa issue. Ani narrates: One day I was sitting in the SPLM/A office. Then a man came in. He was coming I think to process a marriage certificate or some document. Then the man in the office asked him, “[i]s the woman accepted by the UNHCR?” Then he replied, “[o]f course, if she is not accepted do you think I will accept to marry her?” I was really angry with his reply. From this conversation it is clear to me that men always exploit us women because we have better chances to get someone out of Cairo to the peaceful land.53
The above narrative was echoed by many participants and it reflected the general view held by southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo about how men exploit idafa. Despite this general view held by refugees, however, one can still argue that exploiting idafa is not only one sided since there were also some single men who were recognized as refugees and have included single women trying to get resettled in their files. Stories and rumors move back and forth between Cairo and North America or Europe, either through the Internet, telephone, or letters. Refugees in Cairo who have friends or relatives resettled abroad have more information about what is going on abroad than they did formerly. Stories about broken families, separation, and divorce cases among southern Sudanese refugees in the United States of America or Canada, for example, are well known among refugees in Cairo. Therefore, during my discussion with participants about the issue of idafa, many of them attributed the breakdown of families and marriages abroad to the shaky grounds on which these marriages were based. As noted by Ani, “[t]here are so many
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problems in families that migrated from Cairo to America. When they arrive there problems will start. This is because their intention was not to get married in the first place. Instead they just got married because one of them wanted to be included in the file of the other for resettlement.”54 However, it must be noted that not only those families or marriages that were established through idafa that broke up in the resettling countries, but also those that existed long before resettlement that have disintegrated in the West, including some couples who have been together for more than fifteen years. Therefore, attributing the breakdown of marriage solely to idafa would be incorrect. Circumstances in their newly adopted country have also certainly contributed to these break-ups. Based on the above analysis, one can argue that, whether through idafa or through culturally accepted ways of conducting marriage, the resettlement program has contributed to the steady increase in the number of marriages in Egypt. This increase has been reflected in the church records of marriages conducted in the church, as well as applications filed for a “certificate of traditional marriages” from 1995 to 2001, I reviewed.55 For example, during this period there were 219 marriages conducted in al-mughadas and kamalia churches as compared to the 6 marriages in the two churches in Cairo from 1990 to 1994. There were 559 applications filed for certificate of traditional marriages and approved by al-mughadas church from 1995 to 2001 as compared to only 1 application from 1990 to 1994.56 Besides these, there are those marriages that are conducted outside of the church, where marriage documents are obtained from other legal sources. In order to process a certificate of traditional marriage through al-mughadas church, for example, the concerned parties have to file an application form to the parish priest in charge. The application must be supported by photocopies of the man’s and the woman’s passports, the passports of two witnesses for both the man and the woman, and any other document that is regarded as significant. The application is then put up on the church notice board for all members to see. If the church authority does not receive a complaint objecting to the union of the two people from any one in the refugee community after two weeks from the date of the posting of the notice regarding the applicants, then the priest will issue the certificate. However, for it to be valid, the certificate must be signed and stamped by three authorities: the Foreign Ministry of the Arab Republic of Egypt, the Bishop of the Catholic Church in Egypt, and the Cairo Security Municipal office. It is the responsibility of the applicants to undertake all these procedures. According to the priest of al-mughadas church dealing with Sudanese refugees in Cairo, the increase in marriages can be attributed to both the increase in the number of refugees as well as to the resettlement program. He went on to argue that “many young people have come to the church
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to get certificates without the knowledge of their families. They just want to get married. What they call Moudo al idafa [i.e., the issue of idafa] sometimes drives people crazy. Some people who are in the process of resettlement will try to squeeze in someone, and they do crazy things for this, and this is what is happening.” Therefore, it can also be argued that resettlement has led to the alteration of many culturally accepted ways of conducting marriages. Family background and the family’s social position in the society, which were once measures for acceptance of marriage, have become irrelevant when women marry across ethnic and racial lines, as they tend increasingly to do in Cairo. Similarly, marriage certification and legal registration of marriage have become important compared to a marriage’s recognition only by the families involved, as it was the case in the past. The marriage certificate has also gained significance because applying for resettlement in a third country requires certified marriage documents as proof that the applicants are really married. The absence of elderly or close family members in Egypt has led many marriages to be witnessed by distant relatives, friends, and the church. Since securing money, goats, or cattle for bride wealth payment has become very difficult in Cairo, bride wealth was negotiated and an agreement signed between the parties involved, indicating that the issue of bride wealth will be settled when peace prevails in Sudan. Unity of the Family The family is considered one of the most significant social, cultural, and economic institutions in southern Sudan. Therefore, maintaining family unity is necessary. However, due to war, displacement, and the resettlement program, the unity of the family is threatened. As noted earlier, the main purpose of the resettlement program in Cairo was not to separate family members or to disrupt relationships, but to maintain the unity of the family for the betterment of its members. However, the ways in which some refugees have pursued resettlement have proven disruptive to family cohesion and survival. As is explained in chapter 6 of this book, the desperate economic situation in which southern Sudanese refugees lived and continue to live has forced many of them to pursue, and to engage in, practices that are threatening to family unity. Since resettlement to a third country represents a “lasting solution” to their problems, both men and women have pursued different ways and means of how to get resettled. As I noted in the introduction, the majority of married women refugees in Cairo are only there with their children, whereas their husbands remain in Sudan, waiting to follow when the wife’s application has been processed by the UNHCR
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and she awaits an interview. However, circumstances in Cairo and the inability of some husbands to come from Sudan and join their wives have forced some women refugees to abandon their husbands who were still in Sudan, remarry, then leave for resettlement. Others just process their case at the UNHCR with the children without including the husband in the file. According to an IOM official I interviewed, “[s]ome women who are single mothers here [in Cairo] and their husbands are in Sudan, influenced by such stories that in America, for example, one can easily get a job, they begin to process divorce papers and begin adding new husbands. So there are some husbands who ended up divorced in absentia and the wives marrying new husbands.” The availability of Egyptian lawyers who are willing to process divorce papers for those women and men refugees seeking divorce have facilitated the process. Some participants noted that some women refugees go to these Egyptian lawyers to seek divorce. They usually explain to the lawyers that their husbands’ whereabouts is not known, and that they have not seen them for several years. Since the services offered by these lawyers are not free, some women refugees ended up paying up to LE500.00 (approximately US$125) in legal fees to obtain divorce papers. The UNHCR office in Cairo has also confirmed this fact. According to the UNHCR official I interviewed, “[i]f a person has not seen a spouse for five years, we have been working with Egyptian lawyers and there are ways now of, in fact, documenting if they have not seen the spouse and if they have divorced through a court system. Because people do have the right to marry and so in fact the card to resettlement is an incentive to try to abuse the system sometimes.” As noted earlier in this chapter, idafa or adding a spouse in one’s file at the UNHCR requires valid legal documents as proof of the relationship. To meet such requirements, many refugees have resorted to the church or community organizations to obtain such documents. As the UNHCR official said, the “UNHCR is not as legalistic as some resettling countries. [So] if relations exist, that is, common law, religious or traditional, and are proven, we tend to be inclusive. [However], it is difficult to combine being inclusive, giving the benefit of the resettlement program with relationships where we end up adding spouses to people who are already married.” Therefore, to minimize or avoid refugees’ chances of abusing the system, the UNHCR has become very cautious when evaluating and reviewing people’s cases for resettlement. Similarly, al-mughadas church priest responsible for processing marriage certificates further noted that the church has created a computer database for documenting all cases of marriage certificates processed by the church. According to him, this measure has been taken because some refugees have attempted to obtain certificates by using documents of other people who have been granted marriage certificates already.
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On the other hand, there are some men who find that maintaining a wife and children in Cairo was not possible given their desperate economic situation, or the status of their applications at the UNHCR. For example, in cases of rejection and closing of a file at the UNHCR, many men leave their wives and children and look for another single woman so as to avoid responsibility. Some of these men may decide to be added on a file of a single woman who is already recognized by the UNHCR, effectively abandoning their wives and children. Saki, one of the participants, related this story: “There was a man living in our area who, left his wife and six children some days ago and is now staying with another elderly woman.”57 Some men, due to reasons known only to them, will also decide to marry a second wife, add the children of the first wife secretly without the knowledge of the mother and leave for resettlement taking the children with him without their mother. Most of those men who do so are themselves recognized by the UNHCR. There are some women also who think of leaving their children and husbands, looking for single men who are recognized by the UNHCR to be added in their files. However, according to Saki, “[m]ost of the time, it is men who abandon their children, but it is difficult for a mother to leave her children to an unrelated person. Those women who leave their children are not thinking well.”58 All these practices, which are done for the sake of resettlement, have led to the break-up of families and have increased the frequency of divorce, separation, and the abandonment of children. Polygamy and Resettlement Polygamous families are also affected by the resettlement program. According to the UNHCR Cairo office, polygamy is not their concern. For example, a UNHCR staff member cannot tell men that they cannot marry more than one wife. However, the UNHCR mandate is about maintaining family unity, protecting refugees, and considering the best interests of minors. Acting in accordance with its mandate, the UNHCR Cairo office usually does not refer polygamists for resettlement to countries where polygamy is not permitted. As the UNHCR official I interviewed put it, “[v]ery often a man typically might intimidate an older wife into giving him custody of the children and the older wife can be left behind. It is not in keeping with our mandate concerning, or the principle of, the unity of the family, [that] you should force a man to choose between his two wives and take one of them, and leave the other one without his protection.” However, as noted earlier, the main refugee resettling countries are the United States, Canada, Australia, and lately Finland. Since the laws of these countries do not allow for the practice of polygamy, polygamists are usually
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faced with the challenge of how to pursue resettlement in these countries, while keeping their families intact. This challenge can force a man to choose between his wives, and thus pit one wife against the other, which usually puts the first wife in a disadvantageous position. To avoid problems and misunderstandings, sometimes members of a polygamous family will opt to apply for resettlement separately. For instance, the husband will apply with one wife [usually the second wife] and her children, and the other wife will apply as a single mother. Or in other cases, the first wife is included in the husband’s file as a sister. But since she is an adult, her case is processed separately from the husband. However, such arrangements are very rare, and their success depends on the level of cooperation and understanding between the people involved. Sometimes those who attempted such arrangements ended up being resettled in different countries. Or in some instances, where similarities between cases are detected by officials of the resettling country (e.g., similarities in children’s last names), the cases of both applicants will be closed, and thus they all lose their chance of being resettled. Although many refugees, particularly men, have secretly processed their resettlement cases without the knowledge of the first wife, such actions do not always pass unnoticed. Sometimes secrets are revealed, which usually leads to conflicts that threaten the very process of resettlement. For example, some women, upon learning that their husbands are in the process of resettling with another woman, will report the case immediately to the UNHCR. This in turn will lead to the reevaluation of the case, and if proven otherwise, the man and his “new” wife will be banned from resettling. When I asked how some first wives learn about what their husbands were doing, and about the UNHCR policies relating to polygamous families, Mama replied as follows: Sometimes a friend will inform you about the laws relating to issues of polygamy. At times some women are not aware that their husbands are having extra-marital affairs. So those women who knew will inform her of what is going on. Some of the women who are familiar with the UNHCR laws have been working with the UNHCR office while in Sudan so they know that. Such women usually advise women who are having such problems to go to the UNHCR to explain their situation because the UNHCR follows the human rights standard. When the UNHCR becomes aware of the case, the couple concerned will be called for the review of their case. Depending on the circumstances, sometimes the UNHCR will cancel the husband’s case, schedule an interview with the first wife, and at the end she will be the one going for resettlement. There are so many women who are now living with their children only. The husband, because of shame, will decide to leave.59
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In some cases, some men who attempted to abandon their wives had applied to the UNHCR for resettlement, whereby they included their wives and children in their file, but afterward decided to abandon the wife and add a new wife instead. Others never included their wives or children in the application form when applying for the UNHCR. The purpose might be to process his own application and leave without his wife and children. In some cases, the woman is the main applicant. All these practices in my view challenge the unity and stability of the family unit. According to the UNHCR official I interviewed, many cases of abandonment, separation, or divorce exist. As she explains it, [t]here were cases where there is a real divorce, and then we can’t penalise the man. We have cases where maybe there is a woman who really wants to hurt her ex-husband. You can have many different motives. And we do have other cases where either a man or a woman is less truthful . . . it is really difficult because first of all people want to be resettled and they will not be forthcoming about having more than one wife. And so we are very, very careful in our questioning, and examining case composition. So if there is more than one mother involved, we don’t let one mother be left behind.
To conclude, despite the fact that resettlement is viewed by the UNHCR and the refugees as the suitable solution to the problems faced by refugees in Egypt, the ways and means through which it was pursued by refugees have turned it into a disruptive program, not only to families but also to people’s lives. As families separate and divorces occur people’s feelings and emotions are hurt. Where children are involved, they usually pay the price of being caught between the struggling parents and thus face serious consequences. Despite the fact that many refugees are in a desperate financial situation, because of the legal fees associated with obtaining legal documents, some of them will sacrifice what little money they have to process divorce papers to facilitate the resettlement process at the expense of both their children and their own well being. Although refugees might have high expectations about the prospects of improving their situations in the resettling country, sometimes their dreams will not be realized, given the fact that in the new setting they are faced with new and different challenges as well.
CHAPTER 6 SUDANESE REFUGEES AND THE CHALLENGES OF LIFE IN CAIRO
PART ONE This chapter addresses two important issues. In part one, the chapter briefly outlines some of the main problems and challenges encountered by southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. These problems include, but are not limited to, obstacles to refugee children’s education; youth and children’s deviation from culturally accepted behavior1; housing; and cases of rejection and closure of files by the UNHCR, and the impact of that on refugees’ lives. Identifying these challenges allows for the analysis of how refugees respond to them. In part two, the chapter deals with the role of international organizations—particularly the UNHCR, the IOM, church groups, and community organizations—and how they handle the refugee situation in Cairo. In this part, I focus on the objectives, programs, and activities of these institutions, as well as the difficulties they encounter in dealing with the refugees. Obstacles to Children’s Education UNHCR policy on refugees in urban areas promotes self-reliance among refugees through education and training programs. This policy was adopted and was the priority of the UNHCR Cairo office during the late 1970s and 1980s. However, in the 1990s, with the increasing numbers of refugees from Somalia, Sudan, and other countries, the focus shifted from education and training to care and maintenance. This shift, as well as UNHCR’s reduction in funding for education, has reduced the likelihood of those children recognized by UNHCR to obtain a proper basic education.2 Besides the cutbacks in UNHCR funding for education, many other factors combine to create a major obstacle to refugee children’s education.
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First, it was practically very difficult for southern Sudanese refugee children to enroll in Egyptian public schools. According to a UNHCR Cairo office official I interviewed, refugee children are allowed to attend Egyptian public schools since December 2000. However, the entry process to these schools is not easy. In order to enroll in these schools, children are required to provide documents from their previous school, an ighama (i.e., resident permit), and a birth certificate.3 However, given the fact that many of the refugee children who arrived from Sudan in the late 1990s were coming from IDP camps in Khartoum, obtaining school documents or birth certificates might represent a great challenge. Similarly, there is the practical difficulty of literally finding a place in Egyptian public schools, which are quite crowded. As well, it is difficult to place children in the proper grade. To do so would require that the child make up for the work he or she has missed. Also, a southern Sudanese child would find it very difficult to survive in an Egyptian public school because his/her skin color would likely make the child a target of daily verbal harassment. According to the head teacher of the muwanga school, “[w]hen Egyptian children see southern Sudanese children in their school for the first time they are afraid of them because of their dark skin color.” Finally there is the difficulty of obtaining the ighama, which requires money that most of the refugee families cannot afford. Different churches in Egypt have opened schools or learning centers for Sudanese refugee children.4 However, as the priest of al-mughadas church I interviewed put it, the “increasing number of refugee children, have put more pressure on the existing schools open for refugees. In the past, there were 400 children in the muwanga now there are five thousand.” Furthermore, it is important to note that the Egyptian Ministry of Education does not officially recognize the refugee schools. Although these schools use the Egyptian national curriculum and Arabic as the language of instruction (with the exception of one school, afendiya), the schools do not issue school certificates that will be recognized in either Egypt or Sudan. In order for their certificates to be officially recognized, children from these refugee schools need to take their “end of the term examination” in Egyptian public schools. The examinations are set by the Egyptian Ministry of Education. However, as the head teacher of the muwanga argues, to be allowed to sit for these examinations, and for their work to be officially recognized by the Egyptian Ministry of Education, refugee children must provide the following documents: “birth certificate, a passport photocopy with a valid Egyptian resident permit or ighama, and a school certificate from Sudan endorsed by the Sudanese Foreign Minister and the Egyptian consulate in Sudan. Without these documents they will not be allowed to sit for the examination.” However, given the fact that most of these children
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hail from IDP camps in Khartoum, coupled with the fact that processing some of these documents in Sudan requires money, time, and familiarity with the procedures involved, many parents migrate from Sudan without obtaining them. The requirement to provide the above documents to enable refugee children to take the final examination at each term, in my view, represents a planned and constructed strategy to deny southern Sudanese refugee children access to education and success. This is particularly true because no consideration was given by the school personnel or the Egyptian education official to the circumstances surrounding the migration of the children from Sudan. Although refugee children continued to study in the refugee schools, because they do not take their end-ofthe-term examination, these children were unable to move beyond the primary school level. As is illustrated in the following pages, this situation has made many refugee children very frustrated, a situation that has led some of them to engage in practices that endanger their well being. Similarly, this situation had put pressure on parents as they struggle to provide for their families and at the same time worrying about the future of their children. The increasing number of both school-age and preschool children has also placed more pressure on the existing refugee schools. Lack of child care facilities for refugee children has forced many refugee mothers to enroll their under age children in kindergarten to allow the mothers to go to work. This in turn has put even more pressure on both the schools and the teachers, since they have to cope with children of different ages and demands in one classroom. Rox, a kindergarten teacher in one of the schools noted that “[e]ven if you [teacher] tell a mother not to bring her small child [i.e., under four years of age] to school, she will not listen. One day a mother brought her three-year-old child into the school and left him in the school compound. So in such a case one has to bring the child inside the class. If you don’t, and if anything happens to the child, the teacher and the school will be responsible. So it is always difficult to maintain such a class with children of different ages and interests.”5 Shifting family composition and a difficult home environment, as well as overcrowding in small classrooms, have negative impacts on children’s learning process and behavior. Different family structures exist among southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. These range from families composed of two parents and their children to female-headed families with or without children, a few families with single fathers, and large families that include either a sole-support mother with children, and dependent relatives, two parents, children, and dependent relatives, or a group of young males and/or females sharing an apartment. Given the limited space and lack of proper lighting in some of these apartments, children are unable to
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do their homework. The head teacher of the Nusiya School described the situation of one student: One day a boy came to me with his homework, but he did not put the punctuation marks on the words. Then I asked him why he didn’t put the punctuation marks as required. He said they [their family] have no light in the house to enable him to see and write correctly. So he was racing the sun light so that he can finish his homework before it was dark.
The development of violent behavior among children is also attributed to the structure of the family they come from, as well as to the small-sized classrooms. According to the head teacher of nusiya, “[c]hildren develop violent behavior due to confinement to a limited space and unhealthy home environment, especially during winter, when there is no heating and lack of a conducive, study environment and a study place for children at home.” The difficult economic conditions in which refugee families live have made many families unable to meet the needs and demands of their children’s education. As a result, many of the refugee children usually stay at home. The church groups supporting the refugees estimated 2,000 refugee children to be without schooling, at the time of my research. In order to meet their families’ needs, some older girls leave school to work as domestic workers, to earn money to support their families. Since many parents, especially mothers, work as domestic workers for wealthy Egyptian families, they usually find it difficult to be involved in their children’s education. As a result, many children go back and forth to school by themselves or unaccompanied by an adult. As many of these children take the public transport, like the underground Metro (or Subway), they face problems such as name calling and harassment, particularly from young Egyptian commuters, a situation that sometimes leads to fighting. According to the head teacher of the muwanga, name calling, in particular, has a negative psychological impact on these children, which in turn affects their learning ability and their self-esteem. The resettlement program also had an influence on children’s education. For example, many refugee families in Cairo have applied to the UNHCR for resettlement. Some are recognized, others are in the process of getting resettled, and others are still waiting for status determination, whereas many others have been rejected and their files closed. Those who are recognized and are in the process of being resettled are usually in a state of “standby,” waiting for the date of their “cultural orientation” at the IOM and eventual travel. Similarly, the resettlement program had also impacted the interest and motivation of teachers in teaching, which in turn affects the children and the school program. As
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noted by the head teacher of the muwanga, [t]eachers usually go for resettlement in the middle of the school term. This interrupts the smooth running of the school, as new teachers are sought to replace those traveling. Teachers also tend to see their teaching jobs in the refugee schools as a waiting station and a survival strategy before being resettled. Similarly, children who are in the process of resettlement lose interest in studying. They will either stop coming to school or will not attend classes regularly.
Refugees are unable to attend secondary and postsecondary schools, according to Egyptian educational policy, which requires non-Egyptians to pay school fees. There are some private language schools (like the Urman Language School) in Cairo, which used to enroll some refugee children whose parents could afford to pay the school fees. But given the fact that many refugee families have severe financial constraints, most of the children do not complete a secondary or postsecondary education. As Stefan Sperl put it, “Egyptian universities began to charge foreign and refugee students, high fees payable in hard currency, a fact which has drastically limited the number of students the [UNHCR RO Cairo] can assist at post-secondary level.”6 Given such a situation, one can argue that one of the main hindrances to children’s education is ighama, which each child must have, but is difficult to obtain. Without ighama the child cannot sit for the final examination. This in turn demoralizes many children, and consequently leads to bad behavior or deviation from culturally accepted norms of behavior. As a result, some of the youth resort to smoking and drinking. As Ding argues, “[a]long Ahmed Sa’eed street where one of the churches serving Sudanese is located, in the evening, you find that, both male and female southern Sudanese youth are standing beside Egyptian cars which are packed along the street. Most of them are alcoholics and they fight and make noise.”7 Furthermore, financial constrains and absence of documents from previous schools represent major obstacles to children’s access to education. Youth’s and Children’s Deviation from Culturally Accepted Behavior Literature on refugees has shown that displacement usually disrupts the social and cultural practices and values of those affected. Further, it gives rise to intergenerational conflict among the refugee population, as well as to changes in people’s behavior and perceptions. When these changes affect youth and children, they are usually viewed by adult refugees as a deviation
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from socially and culturally accepted norms and behavior. In other words, these changes are partly explained in the context of the description of cultural values and practices that had once shaped and continue to shape people’s lives and perceptions while in Sudan. For example, in accordance with southern Sudanese cultural practices relating to the relationship between the young and the elderly (refer to chapter 5 in this book), the young are supposed to respect and obey the elderly, whether within the family or in the larger society. At the same time, young girls, in particular, are supposed to conduct themselves in a respectful way, by dressing decently, and when they go out during the day, they should return home before sunset. However, many of these practices have been disrupted, transformed, or altered in Cairo. As mentioned above, the unavailability of educational opportunities, especially secondary and postsecondary education, has influenced the life of youth and children in Cairo. Most of the refugee children who came from Sudan in the late 1990s were in schools, either in public schools or in displaced children’s schools in the outskirts of Khartoum. That changed in Cairo, and as a result, many of these youth and children found themselves without school and with no other activities to get involved in. Therefore, with time on their hands, living in an unfamiliar environment, and with an uncertain future, many of the refugee children and youth engage in practices that have negative consequences on their lives. For example, they are said to be involved in the sale of drugs for Egyptian dealers. According to the community leader of the Zaituna community organization I interviewed, these children “are preferred by the drug dealers because they are not suspected by the Egyptian authorities.” Similarly, living arrangements and family structure is said to have an influence on the behavior of children and youth. In Sudan, for example, people live in homes within large compounds, where there is a lot of room for children to play. However, in Cairo, refugees live in apartments with limited space, shared by adults and children, and thus there is no privacy. Also, as mentioned earlier, many refugee families are headed by females, which in itself carries consequences for children’s behavior and upbringing. Traditionally, disciplining children is the responsibility of the father, a male relative, or an older brother. When these figures of authority are absent, many mothers find it difficult to control their children, especially boys. For instance, the member of the riyada I interviewed argues that “[w]hen boys reach the age of fourteen or fifteen, they tend to ignore their mothers’ advice, especially when their fathers are not around.” The accessibility of television and foreign videos or films and the absence of parental supervision in most families have also contributed to changes in children’s and youth’s behavior. As many parents work for long hours
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outside of the home, children are left alone to fend for themselves. The mother’s involvement in domestic work, especially the mubeed (i.e., live-in, which is the most common), which is discussed in detail in chapter 8, has many consequences for the family and children. Some of the most common problems associated with domestic work done by women refugees include a negative influence on children’s behavior, the decline of husband-wife relations, and the poor health of children due to the absence of parental care, and children’s emotional pain and physical injury. For instance, there were reported cases where children had fallen from balconies because their mothers work as mubeed. Children are also exposed to dangers, like strangers entering their apartment. Similarly, children were developing bad behavior, like drinking and smoking, at a young age. Joby noted, “[t]here is a 13-year-old boy from our community. He leaves home in the morning and returns late at night drunk. When one day, his mother asked him about his whereabouts [instead of responding to his mother] he threw himself through the balcony from the seventh floor and broke his ribs.”8 Also, to keep these children and youth off the streets, some parents or relatives prefer their children to watch videos in order to keep them at home. As a result, these refugee children spend most of their time watching television or videos, which in the long run is said to influence their behavior. As the leader of the zaituna community organization put it, the “freedom to watch violent and unacceptable films has negatively affected their [children’s] behavior.” Through these films and television programs, children learn different behavior and practices, which are seen by their parents and elderly refugees as alien and unacceptable. Joby noted that “[b]oys are now braiding their hair like girls, wearing ear rings and large pants. Young girls, on the other hand, bleach their skin using mercury injection, or skin lightening creams and wear short skirts and sleeveless outfits.”9 Another participant, Gol, explained these changes in behavior and style as “a clash between modernity and tradition, leading to intergenerational conflict. That is, children tend to see their parents as mutakhalifin [single mutakhalif] or backward people and they are the ones, who are modernized.”10 Youth’s access to cash or lack thereof also contributes to such behavior and practices. For example, some of the youth have relatives abroad who send them money every month. As the leader of the zaituna community organization argues, “[i]nstead of utilizing the money for productive and useful projects, they [boys] use it to braid their hair like girls.” Those who have no access to money resort to selling drugs, stealing other people’s property, practices that usually expose them to even greater danger. In sum, one can argue that confinement due to lack of educational opportunities,
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recreational centers and activities, lack of parental control, and exposure to a different social environment have negatively impacted the behavior of southern Sudanese refugee children and youth in Cairo. Housing The high influx of refugees from Sudan to Egypt in the late 1990s to the beginning of the twenty-first century has created many social problems, which were not experienced in the past by either Egyptians or Sudanese who have been in Egypt since the 1980s. This greater influx has led to a high demand for housing, which in turn led to an increase in rent. As Stefan Sperl noted, “[t]he cost of living for refugees . . . is considerably higher than for nationals because they have to pay for rented accommodations in furnished flats which cost an average of US$ 140–170 per month.”11 Due to this high cost of living, many refugees who cannot afford to pay for an apartment in Cairo are forced to live on the outskirts of the city, in areas where the buildings are still under construction, and where some of the rooms are without windows, roofs, running water, or electricity. Despite these poor conditions, refugees still pay rent, which costs LE70 or LE80 (equivalent of US$18–20) per month. Those who prefer to stay in the city despite their financial difficulties are forced to rent apartments in Cairo’s lower income neighborhoods, where living conditions are extremely difficult even for the Egyptians. They also tend to share apartments, which in turn leads to overcrowding of a small apartment that is meant for one family. It is common, for example, to find two families, or an extended family sharing a two- or three-room apartment in Cairo. This is how Ani describes her family’s living arrangements: “I have four brothers and one sister. There are two cousin sisters and my cousin brother’s wife with three children, plus two other male relatives. All fourteen of us live in a two-room apartment. This is difficult when it comes time to sleep.”12 The overcrowding and the frequency of visitors to southern Sudanese refugee apartments have led to strains in the already fragile relations between Egyptian landlords/ladies and their tenants. This is particularly serious when the landlord/lady lives in the same building as the refugee, which is the most common arrangement in Cairo. The kind of relationship that exists between the landlord/lady and the refugee resident is determined in part by the nature and character of the apartment owner, as well as by the composition of the family renting the apartment. Participants reported that some Egyptian apartment owners are kind and sympathetic to refugees whereas others are not.
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Many Egyptian landlords/ladies generally do not like overcrowding, fearing that their furniture and other belongings in the apartment will be damaged. As a result, they are always concerned about the number of people they allow to rent, which led refugees to develop strategies of how to deal with Egyptian landlords/ladies. For example, at the time of signing the contract, or a verbal agreement (which is the most common), many refugees tell the landlord/lady that only four or five people will be living in the apartment,13 knowing that the actual number is much larger than that. The case of Ani cited above is the best example. To avoid the landlord/ lady finding out about the exact number of residents, southern Sudanese refugees usually ask some of the people to leave the apartment when the landlord/lady comes to collect the rent. As Glo notes, “[w]hen I was looking for this two-room apartment, I told our landlady that we are only four, but we are eight. If you are lucky enough, you will find a good, sympathetic landlady. Such a landlady does not come to your apartment without notifying you. This is the case with our landlady who lives on the floor below us. On the day she is coming, I have to make sure that some of the residents leave the apartment to avoid problems.”14 The landlord/lady’s complaint about frequent visitors is usually explained in cultural terms, that is, it is in the Sudanese nature to visit each other. Problems also arise when the landlord/lady later learns that there are more people living in the apartment than the figure given to him/her. Or when some of the residents or those visiting begin to misbehave or fight. Usually in such cases, apartment owners either ask the residents to leave or increase the cost of the monthly rent, which will either force the refugees to pay the increase or move out. Also irregular payment of rent and utilities usually leads to eviction. Similarly, single women/mothers face difficulties getting an apartment, as many Egyptian landlords/ladies prefer a twoparent (i.e., husband and wife with children) family. Thus, to overcome this difficulty, many female-headed refugee families bring their male relatives to stay with them in order to negotiate the rental agreement. According to Du, a single mother: In El Maadi residential area it is now difficult to get an apartment as a single woman unless you have a husband or a male relative. This is because Egyptian landlords usually believe that if you are single you will bring men into the apartment. So I brought my uncle and another male relative of mine to represent men in the family, so it does not appear as if I am living alone, and so people will know that this is a family. My uncle and the other male relative are the ones who signed the a’gid or contract. Even in the context of southern Sudanese society, a woman who lives alone is not always respected and people usually suspect her of being a “bad” woman.15
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Cases of Rejection, Files Closure, and Their Impact on Refugees The refugee status determination procedure at the UNHCR Regional Office (RO) in Cairo is complex and time consuming, a situation that exposes asylum seekers and refugees to long periods of uncertainty and deprivation. For instance, in the case of the waiting period for status determination at the UNHCR, it can take as long as one year for an asylum seeker to receive an application form, according to the many refugees I interviewed. Add another four to six months to be called for an interview, and another three to five months for the result of the interview. Despite this lengthy process, the possibility of being recognized as a refugee is uncertain. According to Stefan Sperl, “between 60% and 70% of Sudanese asylum seekers have their applications for refugee status rejected.”16 It is true that the rejected people can appeal their cases. However, for the UNHCR caseworkers to review their case and get it processed takes more than ten months or one year.17 Sometimes, after all the waiting, there is no guarantee that their cases will be accepted. As a result, most of those who are seeking refugee status whether for the first time or through appeal usually live in a constant state of anxiety, frustration, and stress. Many of those rejected choose not to return to Sudan but to remain in Cairo illegally. They either have no money to pay for the cost of return or have nothing to return to, since some of the refugees either left their jobs in Sudan or had sold their property and belongings before migrating to Egypt. Rejection and file closure after an appeal hearing affect the refugees gravely. For instance, rejection and closure of a file by the UNHCR sometimes leads to separation or divorce. Faced with an uncertain future, and the need to escape the unbearable living conditions in Cairo, many married couples break up and, in the process, children are often the ones to suffer the most. There are reported cases where a man or a woman abandoned his/her partner and established romantic relations with a single man or woman who is recognized by the UNHCR, with the hope of being included in his/her file. For example, in a situation where a single man is the one who is including a single mother in his file, the children are usually included together with their mother. This is particularly true with some women whose husbands are in Sudan and are unable to travel to Egypt. Similarly, rejection and closure of a file has negative psychological and emotional consequences on those rejected. Many refugees, especially men, who were rejected and their files closed resort to alcoholism as a way to overcome their problems. Others become mentally disturbed. According to the community leader of the zaituna community organization I interviewed,
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“[t]here are some people who are now having a virus in their mind because they are not accepted by the UNHCR. Some of those rejected are now acting like sahranin [those who have lost their minds] and are causing troubles. Many people have committed or attempted suicide because they are either rejected or are anxious that they will not be accepted by the UNHCR.” Therefore, the refugee status determination process determines how southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo make choices regarding their way of life, whom to associate with, what kind of activities they should get involved in, as well as how they go about living their lives in Cairo. Such a process even determined the way in which those refugees who participated in my study responded to questions I ask. For example, those participants who were rejected by the UNHCR, or waiting for their interview or appeal cases, tend to be more critical of the UNHCR, as compared to those who are already recognized.
PART TWO International Organizations, Churches, Community Organizations, and the Refugees UNHCR Regional Office (RO) Cairo The UNHCR RO in Cairo deals with refugees and asylum seekers from twenty-seven countries.18 The office started to evaluate asylum seekers’ claims from Sudan in 1994.19 As I indicated earlier, Sudanese refugees represent the largest caseload of the office. Similarly, owing to limited financial and human resources of UNHCR RO as noted by the official I interviewed, the process of determining refugee status has proved to be complex and time consuming for both the office and the asylum seekers. In addressing such a complexity, I look at four related issues: the refugee status determination procedure; the UNHCR Identity Card and the protection of refugees; Sudanese refugee perceptions of the UNHCR office; and the emergence of the musa’adin program as a strategy to minimize rejection cases.20 Refugee Status Determination Procedure As noted in the introduction, almost all southern Sudanese who arrived in Cairo, from 1998 to the present came to apply at the UNHCR for resettlement. After arrival, a refugee goes to the UNHCR office to register and is given an application “pick-up slip” with a registration number. The slip indicates the case number and the date when the refugee will come to pick up an application form. On the date indicated on the pick-up slip, the
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asylum seeker will come again to the UNHCR office to pick up an application form and an appointment date to come back for an interview to determine his/her status. As noted earlier, there is quite a long waiting period between these visits. For example, those who registered in late 2001 received their appointments in early 2003. According to the UNHCR RO Cairo official, those asylum seekers who are granted registration numbers and are waiting for status determination are automatically considered refugees, and will have UNHCR protection. Thus, they will not be deported. However, UNHCR does not provide services for the asylum seekers while they are waiting for their status determination. Vulnerable refugees, however, like the sick, the elderly, the unaccompanied minors, and single mothers are given priority in the status determination procedure and put on a “fast-track program.” In other words, their case processing is accelerated. Several reasons are given for the long waiting period for status determination. The first reason is the office’s limited capacity for dealing with the sheer number of people for whom refugee status determination is pending, which according to the UNHCR was over 15,000 at the time of my fieldwork. The second reason is the length of time it takes to conduct a single interview. As noted by the UNHCR RO Cairo official, “[o]ne interview can take one to three hours and can only be conducted by people who are extremely well-trained in legal guidelines, and extremely well-trained in ‘country of origin’ information.” All these problems were attributed to cut-backs in the UNHCR RO Cairo budget, which have affected the functioning of their office, led to under staffing and resulted in limited financial resources. Once people are recognized as refugees, they are referred to an implementing partner “CARITAS—Egypt” for need assessment.21 They are given financial and medical assistance based on the need assessment of each family or individual. As UNHCR RO Cairo suffered a 20 percent cut in its 2000 budget, the assistance given to refugees was similarly affected. UNHCR RO Cairo also has another implementing partner that provides training for all women refugees, both family planning and some summer schooling that can help them become self-reliant. Those refugees who are rejected at their first interview have the right to appeal their cases by submitting an appeal request, which should include either new elements in the case or important information that the asylum seeker feels he/she has left out during the first interview. As mentioned earlier, appeal interviews are not automatically granted by writing a request. They will only be considered if the UNHCR deems it necessary. As a result, those appealing their cases are left in limbo, waiting for an interview, and wondering if they will be recognized or rejected, knowing the
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latter will bring the irreversible closure of their files. The uncertainty engendered by the refugee status determination process is best described by Caroline Moorehead, who noted that refugees “come at dawn to wait [at the UNHCR gate] in the hope that their names may feature on the new list of those called for interview to determine whether or not they will be recognized as bona fide refugees, with justified fear of persecution if they return home; or in the fear that they may learn that their appeal has failed and their file is closed, so that the future contains only statelessness or deportation.”22 Since the majority of the southern Sudanese who approach the UNHCR office know neither Arabic nor English, the office employed a team of refugee volunteer interpreters for every language in the community. They also maintain a good gender balance, according to the UNHCR official I interviewed. The volunteer interpreters have to take an oath of confidentiality and are trained in UNHCR procedures so that they can counsel refugees and asylum seekers appropriately. Similarly, the office organizes periodical meetings with different refugee community groups to answer some of their questions and concerns. UNHCR Identity Card and the Protection of Refugees According to its policy, the UNHCR Cairo office usually issues an identity card for recognized refugees, which is said to provide legal protection for the cardholder. However, in reality, the identity card does not offer southern Sudanese refugees in Egypt the intended protection. According to the UNHCR official I interviewed, “[t]he identity card is not always recognized at the working level [of the Egyptian authority]. There are situations where people can be taken and detained from three to four days and then released.” In other words, the identity card issued by the UNHCR means nothing to many Egyptian police officers deployed in the streets and residential areas of Cairo. As Ani put it, sometimes “Egyptian police do not care if you have an identity card which shows that you are a recognized refugee by the UNHCR or not. So the identity card sometimes does not provide protection to refugees. It is now the issue of luck. Sometimes, one will find an Egyptian policeman who understands when you present him the card, and some don’t.”23 Marc related an incident that happened to her friend: A girl whom I know and is accepted by the UNHCR was caught by the police during kasha [random police round up]. She was taken to detention with all those who are not recognized by the UNHCR. So at the moment I am just
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walking in the streets of Cairo in God’s mercy because I have no ighama. If your ighama expires you just pray to God that nothing happens to you.24
This raises the question of identification in relation to refugees, and indicates that the identity card provided by the UNHCR does not offer refugees the intended legal protection. In fact, a “resident permit” stamped on one’s valid Sudanese passport offers more protection to southern Sudanese refugees than the UNHCR identity card does. As noted by the UNHCR official I interviewed, the UNHCR RO in Cairo has reached an agreement with the Egyptian government that a “resident permit” be stamped on the identity card of each recognized refugee. However, according to informal communication and interviews with some refugees, this is often difficult to obtain. The UNHCR RO in Cairo policy is to send recognized names to the Mugamma, that is, the Ministry of the Interior ahead of time, to enable the refugees to get a resident permit. However, upon going to the Mugamma, the refugee would be told that her/his name has not yet reached the office. Therefore, no resident permit is issued. As a result, many southern Sudanese refugees (both recognized and rejected) have to avoid running into problems with the police and possible detention. Some refugees, for instance, have to venture to Sudan’s Embassy in Cairo to renew their passport after its expiry to enable them to renew their resident permit.25 Others, who are waiting for their interviews, will opt to process a new passport at the Sudanese Embassy in Cairo, by claiming to have lost their old one, which will be presented to the UNHCR during the interview, and of which the UNHCR has a copy. Southern Sudanese Refugees’ Attitude toward UNHCR RO, Cairo The experience of a refugee puts trust on trial. The refugee mistrusts and is mistrusted.26
As the above quote illustrates, relations between refugees and the people assigned to help them are usually characterized by suspicion and mistrust. Refugees and asylum seekers usually feel that their experiences and life histories are not taken seriously, ignored, or are sometimes labeled “lies” by those helping or reviewing their asylum claims. This has been the case with southern Sudanese refugees I interviewed in Cairo. The suspicion and mistrust between refugees and UNHCR caseworkers stems from the very process of refugee status determination. UNHCR RO Cairo follows their legal mandate and procedure in deciding who is to be recognized as a refugee and who does not fit the legal definition. Similarly, asylum seekers, particularly those familiar with the 1951 UN convention, are careful in composing their stories because the
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way in which they write their stories, the information they include, and the way in which they conduct themselves during the interview determines whether they will be recognized or rejected. However, many refugees I interviewed pointed to the negative attitude of UNHCR RO Cairo’s caseworkers toward refugees and asylum seekers, particularly those from southern Sudan. They partly attribute such negative attitudes to prejudices and discriminatory practices on the part of the UNHCR caseworkers. As noted by Rox whose case was rejected, “[t]he UNHCR caseworkers always think that any story a Sudanese tells during the interview, or writes in the application form, is a lie. If it is true or not, they do not believe that the Sudanese are telling the truth. So this is their basis of assessing people’s applications, and I think it is wrong. It is best to assess applications, in accordance with the 1951 UN convention rather than personal judgement.”27 The increasing number of cases rejected as compared to those recognized might stand as proof of this negative attitude of caseworkers toward refugees and asylum seekers. However, the official of the UNHCR RO Cairo I interviewed claimed that interviews for status determination are only conducted by people who are well trained in legal guidelines and are often well informed about the country of origin. Many refugees I interviewed noted the incompetence of some of these caseworkers, as well as the irregularities in the UNHCR RO Cairo’s system. As Ale, a member of the musa’adin group I interviewed, noted, “[s]ome UNHCR interviewers or caseworkers are not very familiar with the 1951 UN refugee convention, and even some of them attended the musa’adin course with us.”28 The following narrative by Reba illustrates the general view shared by many southern Sudanese refugees who have approached the UNHCR office. The girls working in the UNHCR do not know their work. They are only brought there because they can speak English, especially former students of the American University in Cairo. Most of these girls are not from large families and they are very young. So when they go and work at the UNHCR, they just went with their academic background, that is, they know English. But they do not know what is suffering, and they have not experienced hardship or hunger in their lives. So if you come and tell her that you have stayed in a detention for two days without food, she will not have the sense of a hungry person. And if you explain to her that you were verbally and physically abused, she will not comprehend that there is another person who can do such things to another person. This is because she lives in a closed society and has not experienced or seen such kinds of things.29
Based on the above quotation, several questions about the qualifications of caseworkers can be raised beyond basic competence. For example, who is
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supposed to work with refugees and asylum seekers? Do academic qualifications and knowledge of the English language give a caseworker enough background to interview, assess, and review refugee claims? Or does the experience of being uprooted, tortured, and the like, count in determining refugee claims? Similarly, on what bases are refugee claims determined, given the fact that the 1951 UN Refugee Convention has been criticized for its limitations? For example, the 1951 UN Refugee Convention has been criticized for its gender-blind approach to the definition of a refugee and its limited application to all aspects of contemporary refugee conditions that exceed individual persecution to include mass displacement of people due to either natural disasters or wars. Another important issue relevant to refugee status determination procedures is the involvement of lawyers, mainly Egyptians, on issues relating to refugee status determination at the UNHCR. As noted earlier in this chapter, more cases are rejected than are recognized. Since resettlement countries rely on UNHCR-referred cases, refugees deploy almost every method and resource to acquire refugee status from the UNHCR. As a result, some of those refugees whose claims have been rejected resort to seeking a lawyer’s help when appealing their cases. These lawyers allegedly have some connections with some UNHCR staff, mainly Egyptian nationals.30 Since the service offered by these lawyers is not free, those seeking their help have to struggle hard to secure the funds to pay their fee. However, according to some refugees, many of those who consulted Egyptian lawyers ended up paying them lots of money and were still not granted refugee status. Reba, who had sought a lawyer’s help to make an appeal, which, however, failed said, Although the woman who interviewed me told me about how to get a lawyer in a situation where my case will be rejected, she did not tell me that I had to pay the lawyer. So when my claim was rejected I went to the lawyer, explained to him my case, gave him a sum of US$350. The lawyer then asked me to go and meet a woman he knows who works at the UNHCR. So I went to the woman and paid her money also, and she told me that, she will get back to me with the results of the appeal. However, when she realized that her actions were being monitored by her boss, she has yet to give me my results.31
Drawing on the above narratives, one can argue that the refugee status determination procedure is complex, as a result of interconnected factors and realities. On the one hand, the complexity stems from the 1951 UN Refugee Convention according to which refugee status is assessed and determined. On the other hand, these complexities are related to the historical and political reality of the host country’s policies toward refugees,
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particularly those from Sudan. As outlined in chapter 2, the 1951 UN Refugee Convention regarded persecution based on race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion as grounds under which claims for refugee status can be made. Given the fact that many women refugees have difficulty linking their individual experiences to one of the five reasons for persecution, women refugees face difficulties, justifying their claims for refugee status determination. Similarly, Egypt’s lack of local or domestic asylum laws have complicated the situation further.32 The Musa’adin Program as a Strategy to Minimize Rejection Cases The idea of the musa’adin was initiated in 1999 by the Joint Relief Ministry (JRM) based in the kamalia church. During that time, many Sudanese and other refugees from the Horn of Africa submitted their refugee claims to the UNHCR. However, the majority of them were rejected and it was believed that many of those who approached the UNHCR were not familiar with its legal mandate. Although they submitted genuine claims, they had not highlighted the main elements of the 1951 UN Refugee Convention’s definition of a refugee, on which a claim’s assessment is based (namely race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion). Therefore, different church groups came up with a strategy of how to help the Sudanese, and other refugees from the Horn of Africa file their cases. A training program called the “musa’adin program” was put in place to train some refugees to help others seeking refugee status file their claims appropriately, as well as counsel them. The musa’adin are mainly Sudanese refugees, the majority of whom are southern Sudanese trained by the UNHCR. One of their main duties is to counsel refugees and asylum seekers on legal issues pertaining to the process of submitting a refugee claim to the UNHCR. In other words, the musa’adin, according to Ale who took the course, “show them [refugees] how to write their cases in the way that is acceptable to the UNHCR standard and in accordance with the provisions of the 1951 UN convention.”33 From May to June 2001, there were thirty-five Sudanese refugees trained as musa’adin, distributed to the different churches helping the refugees. The training of the musa’adin consists of eight lectures, with each lecture lasting for three hours. They are trained on the rules of listening to people’s testimonies, how to extract information from those telling their story, and how to advise refugees on how to respond to questions during a UNHCR interview. Because their work involves dealing with real people and handling their life histories, the musa’adin members have to take an
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oath of confidentiality similar to that taken by the UNHCR interpreters. The training involves both theory and practice. As described by Ale, who attended the training, “[e]ach participant is given a written case of a refugee life history to review and makes judgement on. Participants also have to write her/his, own case. In short, the training course is about how to listen to people, how to study a case, and how to write a good case that takes into consideration the elements of the 1951 UN Refugee Convention and the 1969 OAU/AU Convention on African Refugees.”34 This training is important because, according to Ale, “[s]ome of the asylum seekers, most of whom are not familiar with the refugee convention, may just write cases that do not include one of the elements that qualify a person to become a refugee.”35 A member of the musa’adin team usually meets with those who need assistance in writing their cases on a one-on-one basis. Sometimes, both husband and wife come together, and sometimes only the husband comes. And while the program’s main objective is to help asylum seekers write good cases, and improve their chances of acceptance at the UNHCR, in reality few of those who used their services are accepted as refugees. According to many of the participants I interviewed and from informal talks with other refugees, the musa’adin program did not minimize cases of rejection due to the fact that many refugees who have sought the musa’adin help were rejected. IOM and Screening Process The IOM is an international intergovernmental organization, originally founded in 1950 to help the movement of refugees from the former Soviet Union to Europe. Now the IOM has over 160 member countries and functions under the umbrella of the United Nations, using its system in terms of staff salaries and the hiring of national and international staff. The IOM has several areas of service, including safe movement of migrants, migrant health, and counter-trafficking activities, such as human smuggling. Since the IOM’s main mandate is to help the movement of refugees, the role of the IOM comes into play only when refugees are already accepted by a refugee resettling country.36 In Egypt the IOM is one of the leading organizations associated with refugees. It has three functions: it helps process refugees for resettlement; it helps to move refugees; and it also assists with their medical examinations. The UNHCR Cairo office usually selects refugees, which it thinks can be resettled in the most popular destination countries, which include the United States, Canada, Australia, and Finland. The IOM office in Cairo deals mainly with refugees who are to be resettled in the United States of
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America. These refugees are usually referred by the UNHCR to the American Embassy in Cairo. The embassy then sends their names to the IOM for screening. On its part, IOM establishes profiles for the referred refugees, which will be reviewed by lawyers from the United States INS who travel from the United States to Cairo each time their services are needed. These lawyers interview the referred refugees on the IOM premises, and those who meet their criteria are accepted and those who do not are referred back to the UNHCR. In this case, it is left to the UNHCR to reconsider their resettlement in other countries. Biographical information on those refugees accepted by INS is sent to New York to what is called the “Refugee Data Center” (RDC). The RDC in turn discusses the biographical information or biodata with the different resettlement agencies based in the United States. Each resettlement agency chooses the number of people it is willing to sponsor. After collecting information on accommodations, employment opportunities, schools, and other kinds of important information for the refugees, these agencies inform the RDC to send what they call a “Sponsorship Assurance” to Cairo. When the IOM receives the Sponsorship Assurance, the refugees are notified of their resettlement status. While the refugees’ cases are being processed in the United States, the IOM office in Cairo arranges medical examinations through their physicians. The main purpose of the medical examination is to assess the health situation of the refugee and to find out if he/she has communicable diseases such as TB, HIV, and the like. In the case of a refugee diagnosed with a communicable disease, he/she is medicated until the disease is suppressed to a level that will allow treatment to be safely continued in the resettling country. The IOM also conducts cultural orientation for the refugees. The cultural orientation seeks to minimize the high expectations that refugees might have and informs them of the realities awaiting them in the resettling countries. Cultural orientation sessions usually last from three to five days, depending on the number of realities of the resettling countries to be addressed. The cultural orientation is carried out by IOM staff who are from the refugee community, and who know the different languages spoken by the refugees. According to the IOM staff member I interviewed, cultural orientation is intended “to prepare the refugee for the new setting where morals differ with theirs and also where cultural ways of problemsolving are different, and where laws are respected.” After all the above processes are completed, the IOM makes booking arrangements and flight connections. At this stage, an “Advanced Booking Notice” is processed with copies sent to New York, Washington, Geneva, and the UNHCR Cairo office. The UNHCR Cairo office in turn sends copies to the
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Egyptian Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Interior or the Mugamma, and the Red Cross office in Cairo. The Advanced Booking Notice is sent to the Red Cross to enable those refugees with no valid travel documents or passports to acquire a “Red Cross Travel Document.” After acquiring the Red Cross Travel Document the refugees will go to the Mugamma to get an exit visa from Egypt. After acquiring all the necessary documents and an exit visa from Mugamma, refugees are instructed to go to the IOM on the day of their traveling early in the morning to sign a “Promissory Note.” The Promissory Note is a document indicating the refugee’s sponsor, the cost of the ticket(s), what a refugee is expected to pay for the cost of the ticket(s) each month, and within which period a refugee is expected to complete payment of the ticket(s). The Promissory Note is signed by refugees who are 18 or older, with parents signing for dependents below 18 years old. After signing, a refugee is given a copy of the Promissory Note that he/she keeps together with his/her travel documents, an exit visa, and an “IOM bag.” This IOM bag enables IOM staff at airports to easily identify the refugees, allowing them to make quick connections in Cairo and other airports. The IOM officials usually supervise the weighing of refugees’ luggage, accompany them to the gates, and help them pass through the immigration section at the airport. Other resettling countries, such as Canada and Australia, process their cases in their respective embassies, by interviewing and screening the refugees. Nevertheless, the medical examination, cultural orientation, and travel arrangements are done by the IOM office. The Church Groups and the Refugees Seven churches based in Cairo have taken up the responsibility of helping refugees, both rejected and recognized ones. Given the fact that the UNHCR status determination process is very slow and that few people are recognized as refugees, and the financial support given to recognized refugees by UHNCR is not enough to cover all of the refugee expenses, churches in Cairo have assumed the responsibility for providing various important services for refugees. As Saki put it, “[c]hurches in Egypt are taking the role of the UNHCR when operating in a camp situation, but on a small scale.”37 For Ome, another respondent, the “church has become a gathering place for Sudanese. For instance, people meet friends and relatives at the church. Some also sale items brought from Sudan within the church premises.”38 The main objective of these churches is to extend services to refugees from Sudan and other African countries living in Cairo. Their services range from material and educational to spiritual support, which will be the focus of the following pages.
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Educational and Material Support Given the circumstances within which many refugees live characterized by economic difficulties and lack of educational facilities, many church groups in Cairo have taken up the responsibility of helping out the refugees. Therefore, to alleviate some of the problems hindering children’s access to education, for instance, some of the churches in Cairo have opened learning centers for refugee children. There were three major learning centers, namely Muwanga, Afendiya, and Nusiya, operating during the period of my fieldwork, with a large number of refugee children enrolled.39 Two of the centers offer basic education for the first ten grades from kindergarten to grade ten, using the Egyptian national education curriculum. Arabic is the medium of instruction and English is taught as a subject. The other center functions in English, following the American system of education and curriculum. Besides these centers, there are other educational programs for children in other churches, but on a smaller scale. As noted earlier in this chapter, many refugee families lack enough financial resources to adequately support their children’s education. As a result, some of the children who are able to attend these learning centers come to school hungry, a situation that affects their learning abilities. To address this difficulty, the Danish government through its Embassy in Cairo, in collaboration with the churches and the refugees, agreed to offer a lunch program for all the educational centers. This program started during the period of my fieldwork. Besides children’s education, these churches also offer training programs and projects for adult refugees. These initiatives range from computer and English language classes, to arts and crafts, from income-generating projects for both women and men, to teachers’ training. These programs and projects were intended to help refugees improve their skills and acquire knowledge, in order to become self-reliant. The churches also provide limited recreational activities for refugee children and adults as well, like boys and girls, basketball, volleyball, football, and other forms of sport programs. These activities were offered in the afternoon either within al-mughadas church or sports facilities within other church-based schools in Cairo. Other services include provision of food rations to families, clothing, financial assistance in emergency cases, health services, and job placement. To be eligible for these services, a refugee either has to be a regular member of the church or must register for an interview to assess the kind of help and services needed. For some churches, first priority is given to members of the church. For those refugees seeking domestic work, the first step is to submit their name and resume to the church, which will put it on a waiting list until a job is secured. However, according to many refugees I interviewed,
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securing domestic work through the church is not always guaranteed, especially if the applicant is not known to the church authorities. As Glo put it, “[g]etting a job through the church is usually through ma’arafa [i.e., connections]. Unless you know someone in the church, the possibility of getting a job is nil.”40 Spiritual Support Besides the material and educational support, churches in Cairo are also devoted to caring and providing for the spiritual needs of the refugees. The spiritual support ranges from worship services, prayer meetings to Bible study fellowships and training in discipleship. The emphasis on providing for the spiritual needs of the refugees is clearly reflected in the number of baptisms and confirmations conducted every month, the emergence of prayer fellowships conducted in homes, and the increasing number of all-Sudanese Sunday services and programs in different churches in Cairo. According to the priest of al-mughadas church I interviewed, “[t]here are about 300 to 400 Sudanese who are baptized every year at al-mughadas church as compared to all other churches where Sudanese attend Sunday services.” For example, based on al-mughadas church baptism records I reviewed, there were 1,028 baptisms conducted in the church between 1995 and August 2001, as compared to only 123 baptisms conducted between 1990 and 1994.41 Some participants also emphasized the importance of the spiritual support they received. Many of them identify with the experiences of the Israeli people in Egypt during the time of the pharaohs as explained in the Bible. Thus, for them faith in God has become the only alternative to overcome problems. The most common argument among refugees is that despite the difficulties they are experiencing, still one day they will leave Egypt as the Israeli people left Egypt. As Du points out, “[b]elieving in God keeps me going despite the difficulties.”42 Throughout my interviews and informal communications with refugees, I observed that religious teachings are seen to be of great help to many people, especially those rejected by the UNHCR, or the jobless in overcoming some of their difficulties and frustrations. This was reflected particularly in the frequent invocation of religious beliefs and the importance of putting one’s faith in God during most of the interviews and informal talks with refugees. According to the head teacher of the nusiya, the Bible teachings are said to be helping because “despite the difficult circumstances still God is with us [refugees]. The church, have allowed many people to regain confidence in themselves.” Many refugees I interviewed also emphasize the power of prayer in restoring hope in their lives. For example, as Ale notes, “[t]hrough prayers, those who think of committing
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suicide, for example, will change their minds. Prayers also release one from all the pain that one experiences.”43 The different churches in Cairo have also collaborated at different levels to address the challenges faced by Sudanese and other African refugees. However, their efforts are being affected owing to the increasing number of Sudanese refugees seeking the services and programs they offer. This increase has led some of these churches to reevaluate their programs and services, as they have to stretch their resources to meet the high demand. For instance, in the early 1990s, at the time I was in Cairo the kamalia church health program used to cover the cost for all medical care and prescription drugs for refugees who visit its clinic or who are referred to a hospital for surgery by the clinic. But because of the increasing number of people seeking medical care in the late 1990s, the church now requires refugees to share the cost of medical care. As noted by the head of the Tukul Craft shop located at the kamalia, the medical care was free at first, but when the number of people increased the program changed to the sharing of the cost. That is, the refugee pays half and the clinic pays the other half. And there are certain cases, like, for instance, when a pregnant woman visits the clinic when she is already in her later stages of her pregnancy, she has to bear the hospital cost alone. This has become very difficult especially for expecting mothers who may have complications during labor. It is very expensive. In other words, the clinic has a criterion of who is to be helped and who is not.
Another important issue to be addressed here is the refugees’ pattern of church attendance, and the ways of worshipping. This issue is important because it gives insights into changes that have occurred in the way southern Sudanese attend church service and worshipping. For example, the way in which the word of God is preached and the kind of material support provided by the church sometimes determine the nature of refugees’ church attendance. In the 1980s and early 1990s, many southern Sudanese who were in Egypt then attended mainstream churches that are well known in Sudan: the Roman Catholic and Episcopal churches, with a few who attend other nonmainstream churches. However, in the late 1990s to the beginning of the twenty-first century, this trend has changed greatly, as more and more refugees turned to worship in other churches such as interdenominational community churches and Egyptian Orthodox churches. It was common, for example, to find southern Sudanese refugees who attend church services two or three times a week in two or three different churches. Several reasons were given to explain this shift from mainstream to interdenominational community churches. One possible reason is the style
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of sermon, as well as its content. For example, in the mainstream churches, the sermons focus mainly on what is written in the Bible. In the interdenominational churches, sermons combine verses from the Bible with the realities of the refugee people’s lives; plus members of the congregation are given the chance to share their experiences during the mass. As noted by Rox, who is a Catholic but attended services in an interdenominational church, I think things have changed. Now I do not have any other activity in almughadas Catholic Church except my teaching job. I pray and carry out my spiritual work at ma’mudiya, which is an interdenominational church. This is because to do any spiritual work in al-mughadas church no one will listen to you. And as the saying goes, “one hand cannot clap.” The priest there is always busy with other activities like the schools, et cetera, and he have no time to teach people about how to continue with the spiritual work.44
This narrative illustrates the fact that some refugees are motivated to attend the newly discovered churches because of the spiritual support they offer. That is, the preaching style and its content, the content that many participants say, touches on the lives and experiences of refugees in Cairo. Contrary to the above is the opinion that many refugees go to the church solely to get access to the material support the church provided. Also the church has become a meeting center for many refugees. Besides being the place where newcomers from Sudan first arrive at and, then, contact their relatives and friends who are already in Cairo, the al-mughadas (and other churches) is also a place where people go to get food rations, clothes, or financial assistance. Since the provision of such support sometimes depends on being a regular member in the church, refugees are compelled to attend church services to secure material support. Similarly, Joby argued that many young people go to the church only to meet others. According to her, [t]hree quarters of the youth who go to the church on Sunday are not going to pray but to meet people. For example, you can go to the church on Sunday, and when you enter the church you will find that it is empty. Half of the people are standing outside the church, and talking nonsense, with these young girls who braid their hair long and bleach their skin to look white. So many people you see in the churches are not going to pray to God, and if you ask one of them to make the sign of the cross he/she will not know.45
Whatever reasons motivate refugees to go to the church, one can conclude that both material and spiritual support determine refugees’ patterns of
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church attendance, and their choices of which churches to go to. However, given the living conditions of refugees in Cairo, one can further argue that the need for material assistance might override the need for spiritual support as the prime motivating factor in refugees’ church attendance. Community Organizations and Their Involvement with the Refugees The idea of forming groups or organizations among southern Sudanese in Egypt dates back to the early 1970s when Sudanese students came to Egypt to gain a university education under the “Egyptian Scholarship for Sudanese Students.” The SOSSA, established in 1974, is a case in point. Besides this student organization, there were also small, ethnically based groups, formed for the sole purpose of serving the interest of the students from different ethnic groups, as well as to promote their cultures in exile.46 However, due to the increasing number of nonstudents in Cairo from Sudan in the mid-1990s and the early 2000s, some of these organizations were transformed into community organizations with different objectives and activities. For instance, there were thirty-four ethnically based community organizations in Cairo during the time of my fieldwork. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, I interviewed leaders of only four community organizations.47 The main objectives of these organizations are the cultivation of unity among its members, and the encouraging of a collective and collaborative approach in addressing the problems facing southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. In the following pages, I focus on the issues addressed by these community organizations, as well as the challenges they face in dealing with such problems. Issues Addressed The community organizations deal with issues pertaining to the refugees’ social and cultural welfare. Some of these issues include solving familial problems, maintaining family unity, welcoming newcomers from Sudan, and helping solve the problem of children who are left home alone while their parents are at work. Because it is officially recognized in Egypt, the SPLM/A office in Cairo works in collaboration with the different community leaders who represent a link between the office and the general refugee community. For instance, as noted by the official of SPLM/A I interviewed, as a political organization, the office organizes workshops to discuss the objectives and policies of the movement, and the solutions to problems that face people in the Sudan and in Cairo. The office also intervenes when southern Sudanese
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who work as domestic workers, or other Sudanese refugees, run into problems with their employers or with the Egyptian authorities. Similarly, the different community organizations play a great role in maintaining the unity of the family in exile. For example, as Ale says, young men and women are “advised, to get married so that they do not go astray.” It is believed that through marriage “they can keep their values and traditions. This is because, when boys and girls are left to go their own ways, everything will be a mess.”48 On the other hand, according to the leader of the Shela community organization I interviewed, since their organization has no money, they extend help to the needy within their community through communication and discussions. Also, if a problem arises between a husband and a wife, members of the executive committee will try to advise the two to live in peace. In cases of weddings, the organization’s leadership helps by booking a place for the event and other necessary requirements. Some community organizations also assumed the role of welcoming newcomers from Sudan. According to the zaituna community organization’s leader, a “person is usually sent to al-mughadas church every Friday to see if there is any newcomer who has no relatives, and bring him or her home until she or he finds an apartment. The organization also issues a traditional marriage certificate to the community members who need it, which is then taken to the church to be authorized.” One community organization suggested that some members of their executive committee should take care and teach the children of those mothers who go to work. At the end of the month, these members will be paid by the children’s parents. However, this solution did not work because some of the mothers argued that they cannot afford to pay because the money they earned from the domestic work is not enough to cover everything. Women usually set priorities, and rent and food are more important than child care. The abanus community leader outlined some of the executive committee’s plans to address youth’s problems and misbehavior. These plans include, first, calling the parents about the behavior of the young men who braid their hair and wear earrings, and girls who bleach their skin and wear short skirts and sleeveless outfits. Parents are then provided with possible solutions to these problems. If the parents fail, then the second step will be to isolate these youth from the community. According to this community leader, “isolating those youth who misbehave from the community is another strategy of solving such problems. In this way it is argued, the youth will regret their actions and will feel the rejection by his/her own people.”49 Similarly, some of the problems encountered by refugees, in general, and women refugees, in particular, are addressed through organizing seminars,
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short courses, and workshops. Most of these events are organized by the different organizations established by the refugees in Cairo. Issues addressed during these seminars and workshops range from the problem of alcoholism among young men, children’s education and well being, and social and political issues. For example, during the time of my research I attended a one-day workshop coorganized by the rabita and the Sudanese Victims of Torture Group on “alcoholism and its impact on people’s health,” where an Egyptian medical doctor outlined the deadly consequences of excessive alcohol consumption. The purpose of organizing the workshop grew out of the fact that there has been an increasing number of deaths among Sudanese male refugees, in general, and southern Sudanese males, in particular, from the late 1990s to the early 2000s. I also used to attend the Tuesday meetings organized by the rabita, an organization of which I was a member before migrating to Canada in 1997.50 Other seminars were also organized by the SPLM/A office and were intended to create awareness among different communities in exile who were/are in conflict with each other while in Sudan, to unite their goals under the unifying umbrella of SPLM/A. Challenges Facing Community Organizations Despite efforts to address some of the problems encountered by refugees in Cairo, community organizations are usually confronted with many challenges, which sometimes threaten the existence of these very programs. Failure of these programs is usually attributed to lack of motivation from the members to participate. Many people have other concerns that they consider more pressing than community activities. For example, most of the participants I interviewed expressed a lack of a sense of unity among the refugees, either within a community or between different ethnic communities. Some people tend to pursue their individual interests. As the leader of the lumaring community organization put it, “[l]ife in Cairo now depends on the process at the UNHCR. Like, if one is accepted as a refugee, or in the process of being resettled, people tend to ignore community events. Most of people’s time is dedicated to the resettlement process. In addition, people are reluctant to pay their monthly contributions, which the community’s activities depend on.” Since these community organizations are not officially registered in Egypt, they are unable to secure any outside financial support. Thus, they depend only on the monthly contributions by members, which are not even paid regularly. Given such limited financial resources and nonofficial status, these community organizations have no permanent place to carry out their activities. For example, meetings are conducted either in members’
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apartments or in the church. Plans to organize awareness-raising seminars or workshops also fail because of the lack of a meeting place. Sometimes if a place is found, it is either too expensive to rent or small, or it is too hard to reach from where the majority of Sudanese live. According to the participants, the most regrettable part of an organized seminar is when the people most in need of it will not come. Thus, reaching them becomes a real problem. For example, the one-day workshop on “alcoholism and its impact on people’s health” I attended was intended to create awareness among those Sudanese refugees who have become alcoholics. However, none of the targeted groups or those with drinking problems attended the workshop due partly to the fact that the location of the workshop was far from where the majority of Sudanese refugees live. Therefore, since many youth attend farewell parties for those migrating to North America or Australia, many community leaders take these opportunities to address some of the issues facing youth and refugees in general. Many factors contributed to failure of community organizations to address the problem of troubled teens. The leader of the zaituna community organization noted that these young people came to Egypt by different routes. Some, for example, are brought to Egypt by their female relatives, who are, themselves unable to deal with them. Also some of the teens started smoking or drinking when in Sudan before they came to Egypt. Second, life in Cairo, which depends mostly on one’s economic situation, determines young people’s responses to the advice of community leaders. According to the lumaring community organization’s leader, “[l]ife in Cairo depends on one’s own pocket. If one has a relative abroad who sends money to this younger generation, that relative becomes everything to them, and they will not even listen to anyone’s advice.” Similarly, on the issues of brewing local beer in apartments and skin bleaching, some community organizations have taken steps to stop women from brewing and bleaching, while others have failed. For the zaituna community organization’s leader, the “situation of some of our women is bad in Cairo. While they were in Sudan, they used to support themselves and their families by money earned from brewing local beer. Given the hardships in Cairo some continue to brew.” Contrary to this is the measure taken by the abanus community organization against women who brew local beer in their apartments, that is, advising women who brew local beer of the host country’s laws and sanctions against home brewing. Although alcohol drinking is not outlawed in Egypt, brewing local beer in apartments is; if caught, the home brewer will be jailed and then deported to her country of origin. Thus, women are asked to stop brewing. Such advice, according to the abanus community leader, has led women in their community to give up home brewing.
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In conclusion, one can argue that the circumstances in which southern Sudanese refugees find themselves are challenging and complex. They affect all categories of the refugee population. For example, lack of educational opportunities for southern Sudanese refugee children due to economic pressure and to the restrictive and discriminatory requirements placed on access to educational institutions in Cairo have forced many children to stay out of school, and as a consequent they became involved in such practices as stealing, drinking at a young age, and so on. Also, lack of economic opportunities for southern Sudanese refugees, particularly male, have forced women refugees to leave their children either home alone or at the care of the children’s father or a relative, and to work as domestic workers in wealthy Egyptian homes (see chapter 8 for details). However, despite these complexities and challenges, southern Sudanese refugees have not given up hope. Many struggled in different ways to overcome them. Others, especially men, who find it difficult to cope have resorted to drinking, a situation that aggravates their situation and endangers their lives.
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CHAPTER 7 TRANSFORMATIONS AND FUTURE IMAGININGS
Becoming a refugee, by definition involves geographical displacement, but refugees undergo social dislocation as well . . . even when refugee households remain intact, changes in human relationships almost always accompany the movement of people from one geographic location to another.1
tudies of refugee populations have shown that women and men forcibly driven out of their countries of origin strive to retain in their place of exile the essentials of their culture and way of life.2 Although women try to practice and maintain their cultures, social positions, and lifestyles, the exigencies of being refugees force them to reexamine their perceptions and to adopt both social, and economic roles, which are contentious or counter to their socially and culturally accepted behaviors. Julie M. Peteet in her study of women and the Palestinian resistance argued that since continuous crises and war were periods of cultural ambiguity, patterns of expected behavior were suspended or redefined as people mobilized to resist the circumstances that affect their situation. In other words, exile usually leads to the alteration of many cultural, social, and gendered relations between women and men. Moreover, meanings usually attached to cultural practices and gender role expectations are redefined and negotiated to allow for adjustment.3 As indicated in chapter 5, southern Sudanese women refugees’ lives have been shaped by particular cultural values and practices that govern the southern Sudanese society. However, due to war and displacement, most of these values and practices have been either altered or redefined for possible adjustment in the refugee situation. This chapter looks into the forces that led to such transformations. It focuses specifically on role reversal between women and men; women’s acquisition of some economic independence; women’s development of new skills and knowledge; women’s involvement in leadership and organizational roles; the host country’s
S
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circumstances; and how these forces combine to influence women’s perspectives and understanding. Examining these issues gives insight into how women refugees use their newly acquired roles, skills, and knowledge to challenge the past, how they confront the image of a victimized and dependent woman refugee, and how they imagine a different future. The chapter further identifies some of the cultural practices and perceptions that are seen as obstacles to women’s progress in the past, and thus need to be challenged and transformed. Gina Buijis analyzed the dynamics of change in gender relations, arguing that due to refugee life and forced migration, women refugees are forced to examine their roles and relations to men in the new context. However, women’s responses to forced migration and uprootedness are both varied and complex as women traverse geographic, moral, cultural, and linguistic boundaries.4 Further, women’s responses varied depending on their class, educational level, ethnicity, race, social status, economic opportunities, age and experience in life, stages of flight, and other forms of social difference. Moreover, the process of questioning the traditional values, the victimized and dependent image of a woman refugee, as well as the imagining of a different future, is also determined by these social differences. Thus, it is understandable that not all women refugees in Cairo were engaged in such a process. Gender Role Reversal Recent studies on refugees and forced migration have stressed the importance of recovering the voices, histories, and experiences of African women refugees in refugee literature. Influenced by feminist theories and perspectives, many contemporary scholars on refugee studies have come to recognize the importance of gender in the analyses of the refugee population, in general, and refugees in Africa, in particular.5 The recognition of gender as an important category in the analyses of the refugee population has helped illuminate the situation of women and men refugees. Like race, ethnicity, and class, gender represents a central dimension of social structures. Thus, focusing on gender can yield important insights into the refugee phenomena. However, for this to be realized, “the analytic focus cannot be exclusively women, but the socially patterned relationships between the sexes as they influence, and, in turn, are influenced by the process of immigration” or displacement.6 Using gender in its relational, cultural, historical, and context-specific forms has helped me uncover the complexities within gender role reversal among southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Similarly, the experience of change for women and men refugees and their construction of a new identity are analyzed in
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relation to the process of flight, settlement, or resettlement, as well as the cultures and histories that once shaped and continue to shape their lives. As indicated in chapters 4 and 6, southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo live in a state of transition, uncertainty, and economic hardship. Such conditions influence and shape the way refugees respond to exile, their choices in life, and the stories they tell, whether to the UNHCR, the different church groups supporting refugees, or a researcher. Confronted with refugee, and migration challenges, women are forced to reevaluate their perceptions and to adopt both social and economic roles, which would have been rejected in their societies of origin. However, this process of reevaluation and alteration is not usually free from trauma and tension between women and men, as it conflicts with their traditional and cultural values. According to Gina Buijis, the “remaking” process was often traumatic and resulted in serious repercussions in women’s relationships with men, their families, and communities.7 One of the contentious issues in the process of examination and possible change is the gender role reversal in the refugee context. Gender role reversal in this study is conceptualized within the context of how the gendered division of labor is constructed in southern Sudan and the circumstances in which southern Sudanese refugees experience it in exile. As noted in chapter 5, the division of labor in southern Sudan is gendered, whereby the distinction between domestic and public spheres are defined by the nature or kind of work that women and men do. However, conditions in exile did not allow for the continuation of such an arrangement. As a result, a transformation or gender role reversal occurs as refugees try to adjust to the new setting. Gender role reversal here refers to the shift in the power relations and gender roles between women and men within the family, that is, the shifts in the gendered division of labor and authority. As the analysis of chapter 6 shows, the exile situation in Cairo is characterized by economic hardship, poverty, lack of secure jobs, and exposure to an unfamiliar environment, culture, and lifestyle. Such a situation has greatly affected the lives of women and men refugees. Being marginalized in the new setting, refugees find traditionally defined roles, expectations, and behavior, are put to the test or questioned.8 Reversals or shifts in accepted gender roles and behavior usually create tensions between the two sexes. In her study of southeast Asian refugees in America, Janet Benson identified three kinds of situations in which ambivalence toward working women (or rather a shift in roles) occurs. First . . . men experiencing downward status mobility were sensitive to perceived loss of authority in the family, and when wives worked outside the home the husbands had less control over them. For formerly middle-class or elite men, it was also a matter of prestige to be able to support one’s family.
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Second, if role reversal took place in which a wife supported an unemployed husband, this threatened the husband’s position within the family and required him to take on unfamiliar cooking and child care responsibilities. In the third type of situation, the wife was better educated and/or more fluent in English than the husband. She could hold a higher-status job than her spouse, one requiring more interaction with non-related males and Americans in general.9
Drawing from the above quotation, one can argue that such ambivalence toward the shift in roles applies to many refugee situations. For example, gender role reversal and its consequences, both positive and negative, are one of the recurrent themes throughout my interviews. To support their families financially, southern Sudanese women refugees entered the Egyptian informal economic sector as domestic workers, mainly for Egyptian families. As a differentiated category, participants’ responses to, and their views on, the shift in gender roles vary from one participant to another. Many women refugees I interviewed described gender role reversal as good because it encourages women in particular to acknowledge and value their contributions to the family. Similarly, the shift has necessitated changes in some men’s attitudes as they perceive and appreciate women’s capabilities outside of the family role. This latter view is particularly true of those men who have had formal education, and who are in their thirties and early forties, and have assumed some familial responsibilities themselves while their wives are at work. Some men have begun to realize that women’s complaint of work overload, for example, is justified given the fact that they are now combining both familial roles as well as working to earn income. As Ding, a stay-home father, argues, the “feeling of being overburdened by family responsibilities sometimes brings tension between husband and wife. For example, as a father, while in Sudan I was a businessman, and I was able to provide for all the needs of my family. So when I arrived home and found that things are not done in a way that I like, I used to feel that I was the only one carrying the burden of the family, and sometimes I ignored the fact that my wife was also paying a similar price or carrying a similar burden.”10 Ding indicates that as some men assumed familial roles, such as food preparation and childcare, they became more aware of the difficulties that women experience. Comparing the situation in Sudan with that in Cairo led some fathers to realize the important role women play in caring for children and shouldering almost all of the family responsibilities. As a result they come to value the strength of women, especially when it comes to dealing with children. According to a stay-home father, [i]n Sudan some fathers did not experience children’s noise and their daily demands because they [fathers] spent most of their day time outside the
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house. There is a common saying among the Dinka, which is translated in Arabic as mara’a a’wira, meaning “a woman is foolish.” However, here in Cairo, and after experiencing childcare and seeing how difficult it is, I came to a realization that men are the ones who are fools, not women.11
However, it was clear during my interviews that the negative consequences of role reversal were emphasized more, in particular its impact on children’s well being and the husband-wife relationship. As noted by Kaku, “[a]lthough I appreciate the changes in gender roles, still women are not happy, because the kind of work women do in Egypt has many implications for both the family and the children specifically. For example, because mothers spend most of their time at work, children are left unattended.”12 The shift in gender roles further contributed to the reconstitution of power relations between women and men within the family. As southern Sudanese women refugees assumed the role of providers and supporters of the family financially, some of them began to assert greater involvement in decision making, particularly on financial issues, an area that has in the past been the sole domain of men. Furthermore, as women become involved in other economic activities, they come to realize the importance of women’s economic independence, particularly in relation to issues of power and authority within the family. They also began to challenge the long-held belief that women are always dependent on men economically. For instance, some women refugees now decide how much money is to be spent on children’s education, accommodation, and other family needs, a role that was once the domain of men. Such a shift in gender roles has created a sense of uneasiness and helplessness among men in Cairo. Many men, for instance, feel that their masculinity and authority in the family and over women are being questioned. Such feelings resulted from the fact that women were the ones going out to work whereas men were doing what was traditionally defined as women’s work. Men refugees have responded to this situation differently depending on their place within the refugee context and their attitudes toward household work. For example, some men who are not prepared to assume such roles as cooking and child care resort to drinking and even abandon their children and wives. According to Saki, “[c]ases of abandonment have increased, and it is mostly men who are the ones abandoning their wives and children.”13 This situation in turn has led to conflict in the family, as the woman begins to see that she is overworking herself for the sake of the family and children, at the same time the man is not supportive or appreciative of her efforts. As Ding put it, “[m]ost of the problems in the family now arise from idman or alcoholism, especially among men.”14
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On the other hand, those men who choose to take up familial roles while their wives work, do it against their will because there is no other alternative. As a result, they are always cautious and careful not to be seen by others while carrying out these activities. For instance, Ding states: When my wife goes to work, I have to make tea, go to the grocery to buy bread and cooked foul masri or falafel. On my way to the grocery, I have to look in all directions to make sure that no one sees me. Being seen by a fellow southern Sudanese, especially a woman will create embarrassment for me. Also when I prepare food for the children, if a visitor arrives, especially a woman, and I had to make tea for the visitors, I always feel as if I am doing a bad thing. Because of our traditional understanding about a man’s place in the household, one always sees men doing familial duties as a bad or shameful thing to do.15
As the above narrative indicates, it is clear that men refugees who took on familial roles did not fully overcome the culturally held belief that household work is solely done by women. This is evident in the way in which these men carry out their newly acquired familial duties. They are also carrying out these tasks because there is no extended family arrangement, which exists in Sudan. For example, in Sudan, in a situation where a wife becomes involved in activities that require her to be out of the house, or in the case of sickness, a female relative is usually called in to help out with housework until the wife is back or recovers from her sickness. However, in Cairo, such arrangements do not exist. Although some men have taken up familial duties in the absence of their wives, they still explore ways of reinstating their dominance and control over women. For example, men usually choose from the numerous household chores that they are prepared to carry out and that they are not. Throughout my interviews and informal communications, most men, especially married men, were not prepared to get involved in the actual preparation or cooking of food, purchasing of uncooked food items from the market, and cleaning the apartment, which are seen as the sole responsibility of the woman. Similarly, some men attempt to reinstate their dominance and control over women by frequently demanding sexual services from their wives. In such a situation and to avoid conflict, some women sometimes submit to such demands.16 Besides the above strategies, some men exert their control over women by leaving the apartment immediately when the wife returns from work. As Ding properly put it, “[y]ou will not believe, as soon as my wife arrives home from her Oshin [domestic] work I will just sneak out of the apartment.”17 Other men tend to develop a resentful attitude toward their wives since their wives are now the ones working and supporting the family. Explaining the contentious conditions
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in which many working women refugees live, Ziya noted, “[s]ometimes you [i.e., the woman] bring home the money at the end of the month, and your husband is here, he is angry geliba sukhun, because it is now the woman who is bringing money home. Sometimes he will not take care of the children as if they are not his children also. And there are simple things, which, in normal circumstances will not cause problems, but now create tensions and misunderstanding.”18 The assertion of being the head of the family is sometimes deployed by men to reinstate their control over women. This assertion usually plays out in situations where both husband and wife try to make decisions regarding family issues. Men tend to be dismissive of women’s decisions or view points. As Du put it, “[s]ome men don’t respect what a woman says. For example, when a woman, come up with a good idea, the man will say no. If she wants to do something that will benefit the whole family, the man will say no. Sometimes the woman’s idea is the best but it is always marginalized. As a result, there is always misunderstanding between the two.”19 As is explained in detail in chapter 8, there are no laws regulating the domestic work done by women refugees in Cairo. For example, working hours are not regulated by law, but are usually determined by the woman’s employer. As a result, some women work long hours, and thus arrive home late at night. This situation has created tension and has caused some men to be suspicious. Informed by the cultural belief that a woman should not stay out until late at night, some men are not always happy when their wives come home at ten or eleven at night. These delays sometimes lead to conflict between husband and wife, and in some cases, community elders are called in to address the issue. The following narrative by Yak on problem solving is an example of the extent to which some men are suspicious of women’s long working day: One day I met a man I know on my way home. He was not happy. When I asked him why he is unhappy, he answered that life in Egypt is not good, and he started complaining about his wife. So I decided to go with him to his apartment. When we arrived, he said his wife always comes home late. So we discussed the issue of the delay. When I asked the woman why she came late, she started to cry, saying that, she is working with an Egyptian woman who does not let her leave until after 10 at night. Also her place of work is far from home. Sometimes the train stops. So the reasons she gave were real and convincing. Her argument [story] is also supported by a woman who was visiting while we discuss, and who also works as a domestic worker in the same area [Sakanat El Maadi]. In the end, we told the man that the issue of the delay is not his wife’s fault, but the nature of the work she is doing, as well as the demands of the employer, which determine her time of arrival.20
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Though many respondents noted the fact that the gender role reversal started while they were in Sudan, the difference in Cairo being the absence of extended family. Similarly, in Sudan, some women were engaged in economic activities to help ease the financial pressures on their husbands, but not as the sole breadwinner. Based on the above analysis, one can argue that coming to terms with this shift in gender roles, especially for men will take some time, which in turn will hopefully lead to a gradual change in attitudes toward the culturally prescribed gendered division of labor. Decision making in the family, especially on financial issues, could be influenced in part by the socioeconomic status of the wife. This is very noticeable in families where women also earn income. As the exile experience in Cairo has necessitated shifts in the gendered division of labor, it has also led to changes in women’s way of thinking about power and authority within the family. Studies of social change have shown that social and economic transformations in a given society affect individual’s attitudes, perceptions, and way of life. Refugee literature further reports the fact that displacement usually causes changes within the household structure, which in turn has an effect on people’s perceptions of the culturally accepted norms and values of the society. In her analysis of the role of women in changing African families, Louise White argues that women’s role in the family has changed, not according to the personal traits of individuals but as a result of the family’s changing relations to natural resources, the state, and society.21 Contrary to this is Jok’s argument that “women’s reaction to gender differentials that affect their health and well being . . . are not necessarily the product of shared prescribed norms of shared behaviour. Rather they are the product of individual experiences with the upheaval of war” or the refugee situation.22 My study’s findings agree with Jok’s argument because women refugees respond to change or transformation differently depending on their age, educational level, ethnicity, and economic and social status. At the same time, my findings suggests that although women are similarly affected by the exile situation, not all women refugees are engaged in challenging the traditional victimized and dependent image of a woman refugee, nor are they in the process of imagining a different future. As southern Sudanese women refugees entered the informal economic sector as domestic workers, or become engaged in other income-earning activities, some of these women refugees have become economically independent, managing their own affairs and that of their families. As noted earlier, economically independent women trespassing into a domain that was once considered solely male has created mixed feelings and responses from both men and women. Throughout my interviews, many participants noted the attitude of some women refugees who earn some income and are
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able to manage their family affairs, as being stubborn and dismissive of what their husbands say. This perception emerges partly from the idea that women are always dependent on men economically, and that they had no power to make important decisions. It is also informed by the cultural understanding that women are to express obedience and submissiveness toward their husbands. As illustrated by Du: We [i.e., southern Sudanese] have that tradition that a woman is always subordinate to a man. This view was/is there since the time of our grandparents, and mothers. For example, a woman should not raise her voice to a man. So here when a woman is working and when she complained that she is tired, or ask the husband to help in other household responsibilities, the man will say, “[h]ow come you talk to me like that.” So those men who criticize women are those who do not want women to be above them. Despite the fact that the woman is the one now doing everything, still the man wants to beat her. He wants to subordinate her and he has no feeling of humanity that this woman is tired and needs help.23
Moreover, traditionally in southern Sudan, particularly in urban areas, where men earn income through either salaried jobs or businesses, nonworking, married women usually wait for their husbands to give them masarif, that is, sustenance money to cover the family needs. Depending on individual men, masarif is given either on a daily, weekly, or monthly bases. The amount given is usually decided by the man, and the woman has no say in it because the majority of the women might not know how much the husband earns per month. It is also important to note that the masarif given to women by their husbands sometimes does not cover all the family needs. Therefore, women usually carry out other economic activities, such as home brewing, selling of cooked foods, or working in government offices to supplement the shortages. However, in exile, things have changed, as many women have become breadwinners and are involved in the decision-making process. As a result, women are sometimes blamed for conflicts that arise between a husband and a wife, in a situation where the wife works and the husband does not. She is usually branded by the husband as stubborn or bossy and disrespectful. Similarly, such a woman is sometimes seen by others, both men and women, as exploiting the role reversal situation to her advantage, or to get revenge against her husband. As noted by Ding, “[s]ome women exploit the shift in gender roles to gain vengeance against their husbands because they are now the source of income, while the husbands are not. In other words, they do what their husbands might have done to them in the Sudan. So in Cairo, I see that men are more psychologically depressed than women.”24
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Women and Organizational Work I acknowledge the fact that displacement and life in exile disrupt the normal lives of those affected. At the same time, it can be argued that life in exile can also be of benefit to refugees or immigrants. Neloufer De Mel has argued that “displacement for [the Sri Lankan women refugees] constitutes a place of ambivalence. While it is a constant reminder of loss and trauma, it has also provided them a space of renegotiation and hope for a future unfettered by the past.”25 In the case of southern Sudanese women refugees, their experiences and life in exile brought them into contact with other cultures and challenges. Because of their life in exile, many women refugees in Cairo have become aware of global and regional events and issues affecting women in general. By experiencing changes in their lives and ways of thinking and seeing other women coming together regionally and internationally to campaign for women’s rights, southern Sudanese women have became more aware of the importance of organizing and collective action to address the challenges they face in exile. This awareness is not only limited to southern Sudanese women in Cairo, but also among women in other neighboring countries where Sudanese refugees are settled, as well as inside Sudan. Women have also become aware of some of the negative cultural practices that oppress and discriminate against women in their communities of origin. Based on this understanding and awareness, Sudanese women refugees in Egypt have formed several organized women’s groups, three of which I studied for the purpose of this study. In the following pages I provide a brief background of the objectives, activities, and shortcomings of these groups. The membership of the first two groups I studied, Nawsa and Aswani, is entirely southern Sudanese, whereas the third group, Rabita, has members from southern, northern, eastern, and western Sudanese women. The inclusion of the third group is particularly important to this study as it gives insights into the level of integration or cooperation between the different groups. It will also shed light on how life in exile has facilitated the discussion of such issues as Sudan’s identity and the main causes of the conflict in Sudan between “ordinary” women and men from all parts of Sudan. Brief Background of Women’s Groups 1. Nawsa This group was formed in August 2001 by women refugees to represent women’s concerns. It consists of ten women as an executive committee, based on the fact that many southern Sudanese women in Cairo are not participating in groups concerned with politics. Therefore, the main
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objective of the committee is to create awareness among women on social and political issues pertaining to Sudan. As a newly established committee, it started by organizing an orientation program to familiarize its members and all other women with the objectives and activities of the SPLM, and with the movement’s stand on women’s issues. However, women’s participation in this program was not encouraging, according to the chairperson of the committee. The low participation of women is partly attributed to the economic hardships experienced by refugees in Cairo. As the chairperson put it, “[i]n Cairo many women have to look for a job or something to sustain the family. As such, women don’t have the time that will allow them to engage in other activities. Secondly, many women refugees are afraid of the SPLM/A office, and of the war and the leadership of the movement. This is because there is no awareness, or out of fear to get involved in political work.”26 Despite this lack of time to participate and fear of involvement in politics, women who are members of the committee do not want to give up because of their belief that even during war times, women have been playing, and continue to play, a very important role that is not recognized. Because of their commitment, and to encourage women’s participation, the committee members were planning to form subcommittees dealing with social and peace issues, as well as issues affecting women refugees in Cairo, including problems associated with domestic work and renewal of resident permits. 2. Aswani This group started in 1997 and is located at the kamalia church. It was formed as a result of the rising number of Sudanese refugees who spend most of their day time on the church premises, either to meet friends or just to spend the day. Some of the refugees come to the church to sell food items brought from Sudan, such as dried okra powder or peanut butter. However, these economic activities were not organized. As a result, the church thought of setting up an income-generating group to keep the refugees busy, organize their activities, and to give them the opportunity to learn new skills. Based on the activities carried out by refugees, there were three subgroups under the income-generating program: Jewelry making, greeting cards making, and tailoring. All those involved in tailoring and designing greeting cards were women, whereas the jewelry making group included both men and women. The program is headed by a woman and is funded by the JRM under the umbrella of the kamalia church. Occasionally, women refugees are trained in sewing, jewelry making, and card making and designing. In order to participate in the training for
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sewing, for example, one has to submit an application and then interviewed, and when accepted, the applicant is trained in tailoring and dress making for six months, after which she is given a certificate. Although the training program is intended for all refugees from Africa who are in Cairo, it is dominated by southern Sudanese who attend Sunday services at the church. Upon completion of the training, participants are asked whether they are willing to become members of a cooperative society for refugees based within the church. Those who become members are given sewing materials to sew and the products are sold in the “Tukul Craft” shop located on the kamalia church premises.27 The income earned is divided among the producer, the Tukul Craft shop, and the cooperative management. Despite all the efforts made, the program faces the problem of marketing its products because of their poor quality. As a result, many women refugees who have attended the training prefer to work as domestic workers instead, in order to earn more money. Moreover, women’s work overload consumes most of their time, contributing to the poor quality of the products they produce. 3. Rabita The rabita, a Sudanese women’s group in exile, was established in 1996 to promote the role of women in the development of their countries. It works with women from various ethnic backgrounds to raise social, legal, and health awareness in order to achieve greater cohesion and cooperation among Sudanese women. Its vision is to provide a pool of skilled cadres of women to participate in the development and building of “New Sudan.” The initial objective of the group was to establish an independent Sudanese women’s group, which focuses on Sudanese women’s issues in general, with particular emphasis on international laws and conventions and the Sudanese personal law. This is important in order to see to what extent local laws conform to the international conventions and the new principles of these laws. Other objectives include organizing pressure groups and mobilizing women to protest against human rights violations; monitoring and documenting violations of women’s rights and collaborating and coordinating with other groups in addressing these issues; reaching a consensus regarding national laws; and finally initiating trainers in Sudan’s liberated areas (i.e., areas under the control of the SPLM/A during the 1983–2005 war period) to launch development activities. This group is managed by a secretariat of four members: a coordinator, a deputy, a treasurer, and a networking coordinator, who are responsible for the administration of the group. Among some of rabita’s activities are providing training for Sudanese women refugees, networking with different women’s groups to further the
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role of women in development, and exchanging literature and engaging in discussion on women’s issues in order to reach consensus on Sudanese development priorities. The group holds weekly organizational meetings (which is analyzed in detail below), and offers workshops, seminars, and discussion groups on existing laws and bylaws and other current issues pertaining to Sudan. These meetings also raise legal and intellectual awareness and advocate statutory changes to comply with the needs of women. The group’s strategy is to encourage young women to strengthen their leadership qualities, and hence they encourage the young members to lead discussions, seminars, and debates. During 1999–2001, rabita organized a total of eight skills training courses that would provide training and assist in securing jobs to improve women’s economic status. About 219 women refugees were trained in the area of home health care, first aid, and provision of care for children with special needs. The group also offered a course that aimed at assisting women refugees in adjusting to their new conditions by providing some basic information on the status and rights of refugees, reproductive health issues, gender, local laws, and the use of the Internet. The participants in these training programs are given certificates, which they can use for a job search. The group also helps the women they train to get jobs as home care providers. For example, rabita makes contact with potential employers and provides them with background information about the women searching for a job. Upon securing a job, a rabita official will accompany the job seeker to the employing family, sign the job contract and the necessary paper work required. This process is especially important because it guarantees the safety and well being of the worker, an important concern given the experiences of domestic workers in Egyptian families.28 Rabita’s Weekly Meetings and the Issue of Trust among Women The main purpose of analyzing the weekly meetings organized by rabita is to uncover the effectiveness of these meetings in creating mutual understanding and trust between northern and southern Sudanese and other marginalized groups in Sudan.29 The main objective of the weekly meetings is to bring all Sudanese in Cairo together to discuss issues that concern them in exile and the political situation back in Sudan. In their initial stages, these meetings focused on the historical roots of Sudanese people from the entry of Arabs into Sudan, through the British colonial rule, and on into the independence of Sudan. They also focused on topics such as identity, slavery, and women’s issues. All these discussions were intended to set the basis for the understanding of the root causes of the war in Sudan.
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Occasionally, guest speakers were invited to address these and other issues of concern. The meetings also addressed current national, regional, and global issues. For example, the September 11, 2001, attacks on the United States and their implications for the Sudanese people in particular were discussed. As noted by some participants who attended these meetings, the first four meetings were very difficult psychologically because they addressed past memories, experiences, and atrocities committed by Arab-dominated governments in Sudan on southern Sudanese and other marginalized groups in Sudan. As Reba, a member of rabita, who attended the first four meeting notes, “[t]hese first meetings were difficult because those oppressed are reminded of the painful historical memories experienced and continue to be experienced by all those who are marginalized and oppressed in the Sudan. Similarly, it was difficult for northern Sudanese at first to accept that they or their ancestors had committed such atrocities against others.”30 Throughout my interviews, many participants involved, and continue to involve in these meetings, noted that life in exile allowed northern, southern, and other marginalized groups from Sudan to sit together and address these historical realities of the Sudanese people. According to Ani, a member of rabita, “[w]hat I realized is that, being in exile has shown people that southern Sudanese were and are really oppressed and marginalized, and even our relations with other Sudanese have started to improve, especially our interaction in and with the rabita office, which is not like in Sudan.”31 However, when asked if these weekly meetings help in bridging the gap between southern and northern Sudanese women, participants’ responses varied depending on their situation and experiences. Many southern Sudanese women refugees argued that although Sudanese in Cairo are able to address the contentious issues that have affected and continue to affect their lives, there is still a long way to go in order to bring real unity and mutual trust among northern, southern, and other marginalized groups in Sudan. This is because many Sudanese people have not yet given up their previous perceptions and beliefs about the national identity of Sudan, that is, is Sudan an “Arab” or an “African” country? And are the northern Sudanese in particular willing to acknowledge the fact that they have oppressed and violated the rights of the marginalized groups in Sudan? As Ani argues, “[h]ow can we [southern Sudanese], bridge the gap or create close relations between northern and southern Sudanese women, if northern Sudanese women are not convinced that they have violated our rights? Unless they [northern Sudanese] acknowledge officially [i.e., at the institutional level], that they have violated our rights, then none of us will be able to create mutual or close relations.”32
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Mistrust between northern and southern Sudanese was particularly stressed by many participants. For example, some refugee participants in the meetings noted the criticism they face from fellow southern Sudanese women who were not involved in rabita’s activities. This is especially true when they tried to encourage them to participate in rabita meetings and activities. Reba, a southern Sudanese woman and a member of rabita, narrated her experience: There is lack of trust on the part of southern Sudanese toward northern Sudanese. Even when I started coming to the rabita office, my relatives were not happy. Southern Sudanese have this saying that, al a’rabi huwa a’rabi [i.e., is an Arab is an Arab]. We [southern Sudanese] have this perception that a northern Sudanese will not do for you anything good without a hidden agenda or interest. I also experienced opposition and criticism from my brothers’ wives when I asked them to come and attend the meetings. They used to say that, “you want us to go to Arab meetings?” They usually give me the impression that one is not supposed to associate with northern Sudanese.33
As indicated in chapter 1, this mistrust between northern and southern Sudanese is attributed partly to the deep-seated grievances held by southern Sudanese in relation to the oppressive and discriminatory practices by northern Sudan-based governments toward southern Sudanese. However, despite women’s mistrust and a general lack of interest to participate, one participant noted that the attitude of some southern Sudanese and other marginalized groups started to change gradually toward rabita. In addition to the part played by the weekly meetings, what escalated the change in attitude toward the rabita was a course organized by rabita and hosted by the American University in Cairo in August 2001 entitled “Women Refugees and Environmental Change,” together with several follow-up awarenessraising seminars. The course focused on the issue of identity, legal aid, human rights, gender, and reproductive health. According to Reba, who also attended the course, “[s]uch a course is very important, because, it allows women from different backgrounds to come together, and to realize that they are interconnected, and allowed for a change in perception. Even some of the southern and western Sudanese women who were critical at first, now began coming to the office.”34 Women’s Involvement in Organizational Work As noted in chapter 5, women’s involvement in politics or organizational work was/is restricted in Sudan, based on the cultural understanding that dictates that the proper place for women is in the home. However, in exile many women refugees become involved in political and organizational
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work pertaining to women’s issues. What motivated these women refugees to get involved? And how has involvement in organization or political activities influenced women’s perceptions of themselves and the life around them? The term “politics” is used here to refer to those decisions and issues pertaining to the functioning of the government and other public institutions, including foreign affairs, education, the economy, the military, political parties, and other governmental apparatus. Besides being exposed to different cultures, a different social environment and global issues affecting women, Sudanese women refugees in Cairo are motivated to get involved in politics or group work because of their personal experiences in life and the work they do, be it domestic work or other income-earning activities. The women I interviewed, who are involved in politics or women’s groups, noted how they have benefited from their participation in such activities. Some of these women emphasized the new skills they have acquired through their participation in training programs organized by either women’s groups or other institutions dealing with refugees. For example, Marc who attended a course on home health care providers organized by rabita noted that the “training helped me a lot, because I did not imagine that one day I will be able to do blood analysis; that is, to do the work similar to that done by a trained nurse. In reality, I learned most of the things like blood analysis and testing of blood sugar level from the family doctors of the elderly man I worked for. Thus, I benefited a lot from them as well.”35 Similarly, women’s participation in group or political work and activities has influenced the way in which they view their abilities and contributions to society. They have come to a realization that women are powerful beings and they have the potential and the ability to do things sometimes even better than men. As Ani put it, “[i]n rabita here there are no men, but women who run the office. Rabita actually wants women to know their rights and not, to allow our traditions to dictate our lives.”36 In this way, through their engagement in collective work, southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo are challenging the long-held belief that women in Sudan, in general, and southern Sudan, in particular, are not suited for political or organizational work. Being in exile and getting involved in collective activities have affected women’s perceptions about Sudan’s political situation and about issues of marginality and commonality of experiences. As historically understood, and as noted in chapter 1, the conflict in Sudan is usually viewed as the conflict between the north and the south, and that the southern Sudanese are the most marginalized and oppressed people in the country. However, through discussing the current political situation in Sudan, and coming into contact with other Sudanese from eastern and western Sudan, many
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southern Sudanese refugees have realized that they are not the only people in the country who are oppressed and marginalized. Rather, people in eastern and western Sudan are marginalized and oppressed as well. Furthermore, during discussions of such issues as identity, the north-south division, women’s oppression, and atrocities committed by northern-dominated governments against southern Sudanese, the people of the Nuba Mountains, and other marginalized groups in Sudan have increased their level of awareness on these issues. The meetings organized by women groups further allowed women to think that although they are differently located, there are also commonalities between and among them. In sum, therefore, one can argue that the important feature of these women’s organizations is that Sudanese women have started examining and assessing previous activities, and existing Sudanese laws and cultural practices as part of a process of seeking strategies and effective ways to improve women’s conditions as well as making their voices heard. Such examining and assessing is exemplified by the work of the rabita in particular. For instance, as previously mentioned, one of rabita’s main activities is to examine some of the Sudanese and international laws and practices that affect women, especially the Human Rights Convention and the Convention for the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW). This examination is followed by suggestions on how to improve the laws and cultural practices that affect all Sudanese women. The Tuesday meetings noted above also represent some of the strategies through which women can make their voices heard and can address some of the issues that affect women refugees in Cairo. Similarly, other groups, such as the nawsa, have also started addressing the importance of women’s involvement in the activities of the liberation movement, and in particular in the peace negotiations between the SPLM/A and the Sudan government.37 Women have also started to see the importance of improving one’s social, educational, and economic situation through participation in seminars, workshops, discussions, and attending short courses on issues pertaining to women and refugees, as well as involvement in economic activities. This awareness, especially of the importance of improving one’s social and economic situation, is reflected in the experiences of those women who actively participated in the organizational and leadership roles, as well as of those women who attended the courses, seminars, and workshops. It is also reflected in the experiences of those women who work as domestic workers. Women’s awareness regarding issues pertaining to women and refugees did not start only with the women who participated in my interviews, but also with other women who have been in Cairo before them, as well as with other southern Sudanese women in other neighboring African countries and inside Sudan. For example, several northern and southern
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Sudanese women who were in Egypt in the early 1990s attended the 1994 NGOs Forum of the United Nations International Conference on Population and Development (ICPD) held in Cairo. Some of them attended the regional conference in Dakar, Senegal, in 1995. Southern Sudanese women from Egypt, Kenya, and Sudan also attended the NGOs Forum of the United Nations International Women’s Conference in China in 1995.38 Thus, the emergence of these women’s organizations in exile is in response to the effects of the civil war, uprootedness, and the circumstances they found themselves in. Despite their limitations, still these groups are able to address women’s problems in a multifaceted way, combining the needs of women in the areas of reproduction, production, empowerment, and emancipation. Women Refugees and Leadership Roles As noted in chapter 5, the participation of Sudanese women in politics or other public affairs is restricted due to the perception that women belong at home. Although there are women in southern Sudan who pursue educational opportunities and work in government offices, few of them reach high decision-making positions. This is due to the general perception that women are not capable of making important political decisions. Similarly, women’s ideas or views are not usually taken seriously or are ignored. In Cairo, for example, men commonly refer to women’s groups as “women’s gossiping gatherings,” or as groups of lazy and/or unmarried women. In political discussions regarding national issues, the voices and views of the few women who dare to speak out are usually silenced and ignored or rendered useless. As Christine Obbo notes, “women’s voices have been devalued by male chroniclers of cultural history . . . Most often, women’s views are dismissed with smirks or disparaged as nonsensical in the apparent belief that men talk and have discussions on serious matters but women gossip.”39 On the other hand, some African feminists have pointed to the challenges that face African women who attempt to challenge male authority and struggle for autonomy. For example, Ama Ata Aidoo discusses what being African, educated, career oriented, and unmarried means to a woman. She examines “the frustrations, the stigma of doing anything like a man” or pursuing an academic career.40 Such women are usually seen as being different from other “ordinary” women who follow the traditionally prescribed gender roles. During my interview with Joby, the only woman elected as a leader of her community, she recounted both the strengths and the challenges she encountered when she was elected as leader of their community. According to Joby, being an educated woman and having the courage to
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speak out and express one’s opinion are some of the most important assets of a leader. She attributed her success as a leader to her university education and her involvement in students’ extracurricular activities during the years of her preuniversity education in Sudan. Joby concludes, “[a]n educated woman is not different from an educated man, and she can be a leader. Up to now I don’t feel like I am less than a man, because I have achieved more than a man could, since I am elected as leader of our community.”41 Despite Joby’s rising to the position of a leader of her community in Cairo, she has also encountered some challenges from the very community she serves. As indicated earlier, women in southern Sudan are not always viewed as being capable of handling leadership roles simply because of their gender. At the same time, women’s presence is sought if it serves a particular purpose, such as the involvement of women in nationalist or liberation movements. Similarly, within the context of the southern Sudanese community in Cairo, a woman is usually brought to a leadership position, or to be part of an interest group or association, for a specific purpose. For example, during my stay in Cairo before migrating to Canada, I got involved in a male-dominated research project, which intended to study Sudanese communities in exile.42 During the course of the research project, I learned that my inclusion in the project was not only because of my knowledge and research abilities, but also because the funding agency requested that the research group must be gender balanced in order to secure funding. In the case of Joby, she later came to realize that she was elected as leader of her community for a particular purpose. She noted two reasons: first, that she was elected “to test women’s capabilities and to see if a woman in exile can psychologically handle such a responsibility or not.” Second, because she is not married, the men in the community wanted to choose for her a husband from the community. As she narrated: When I applied for the UNHCR and I was recognized as a refugee, the men in the community said, if I want to include a person [man] in my UNHCR file, the person should not be a stranger but a man from the community. It is a major problem I am facing now as community leader. But the best thing is that I did not give up because, being a leader is one thing and my private life is another. So in the end I came to a realization that to be a woman and a leader, one must be a married woman living with her husband and children. May be the only problem that one might encounter is how to manage both the leadership role and familial responsibilities.43
Therefore, one can argue that although women have contributed and can contribute in politics and other public affairs, still their contributions and capabilities are not usually recognized or appreciated, especially by men. Being a woman and a leader, or career oriented, or politically active is
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regarded as a transgression against the culturally accepted behaviors. Such a woman is usually viewed as a trouble maker or a revolutionary. Similarly, when women become leaders or participate in politics, people do not always focus on what a woman does, or can do or has achieved in life. Instead they are usually concerned about questions of a personal nature, like who is she? Is she married or not? If married, who is her husband? Is she divorced? And so on. Being unmarried, or divorced, is usually seen as a “bad” characteristic for a woman leader. In a way such a woman is seen as a threat to other women, especially to those married women who are living “happily” with their husbands. An online article written by a southern Sudanese man living in exile clearly explains men’s ambivalence toward unmarried or divorce woman in leadership roles. He noted that “[i]nstalling a woman who has recently divorced her husband for unconvincing reasons to be the ‘community women representative’ is sending the wrong signal to the women loyal to their husbands.”44 This view is generally shared by many southern Sudanese men both in Sudan and in exile. Similarly, within the context of southern Sudanese society, women who try to organize women for collective action, or speak out and address issues pertaining to women’s rights and obligations, are usually accused by both men and women as kharabu biyut nas, that is, home wreckers. However, despite these challenges and criticism, some women did not give up, as the case of Joby suggests. Rather, they continue to struggle for women’s rights and make their voices heard. Obstacles to Women’s Participation in Politics and Organizational Activities The cultural practices expected of women and the perceptions of women, their personal locations, as well as their conditions in exile, all interact to determine the level of women’s participation in either politics and/or collective work. As stated in chapter 5, southern Sudanese cultural practices and perceptions about women do influence women’s choices in life. Similarly, the different locations of women in exile determine their choices on whether to get involved in public activities or not. Throughout my interviews, participants have repeatedly noted the negative impact of some of the southern Sudan cultural practices and peoples’ perceptions about women’s place in the society, and how all these have affected women’s experiences in exile. Most of those who noted the negative impact of some of the cultural practices are women in their twenties, thirties, and early forties, who have had some formal education and who have been involved in some organizational activities, either in Sudan or in
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exile. Despite the efforts made by the women’s groups and programs designed to improve their conditions and awareness on issues affecting women, women’s low level or lack of participation in these efforts was the most recurrent theme during my interviews. Several reasons were given for this lack of interest in politics or group work. First, the socialization of southern Sudanese women did not allow women to perceive politics or other public activities as in the realm of the possible. Politics was and is always seen as men’s work, so many women usually shy away from it. For example, as Rasha, the chairperson of the nawsa group, notes, “[i]n the Sudan, as well as in exile, many women do not listen to the news, or read newspapers. In political or public discussions, women are always silent.”45 Second, the gender division of labor among southern Sudanese that places more responsibilities on women does not allow women any extra time to engage in activities outside the home. For example, owing to men’s lack of involvement in familial roles like cooking and caring for children, women’s chances to be involved in politics or collective work have been hindered. Reba notes, [a]ccording to the Dinka tradition, if a man cooks or enters the kitchen it is considered a ‘shame’ for him and his wife. Similarly, a Dinka man is not supposed to touch his new-born child until, the child is one or two years old. So in such a situation, the woman has no choice but to care for the child and to carry out other family responsibilities alone. She will sacrifice other things like attending meetings so that she will be seen as al maraa al mithaliya, that is, an ideal woman/wife.46
Even in Cairo, as my findings indicate, some men are not prepared to carry out familial roles, which they see as a degradation of their social position and authority within the family. Third, lack of education was noted as a major obstacle to women’s participation in either politics or group work. Education in this context means formal education, which necessitates the ability to read and write. The majority of southern Sudanese women, whether in Sudan or in exile, is not educated, partly due to the southern Sudanese cultural values that restrict or discourage women’s and girls’ education. The economic hardships facing families and the political instability in Sudan resulting from the civil war further constrained women’s and girls’ enrolment in schools. These situations have further contributed to women’s lack of awareness about the political situation in Sudan, women’s rights, and their lack of interest in politics or other public activities. However, the importance of women’s education was emphasized by many participants. There is a general belief among the refugees that through education and reading, women will be
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exposed to their surrounding. As Joby put it, “I have now realized that an educated woman, although she has little education, can know her position and rights within the family.”47 Fourth, economic difficulties and security concerns in Cairo have negatively impacted women’s decisions and chances of participation. As noted earlier, southern Sudanese refugees are economically disadvantaged in Cairo. This situation has forced some women either to abandon or to avoid collective work, while individually pursuing economic activities that will help in sustaining their families. Security concerns have also made some women refugees unwilling to participate in politics. As noted in the introduction, the majority of these women came to Cairo with their children, leaving their husbands, mothers, or some of their children in Sudan. Some of these women are planning to return to Sudan to bring out their children or mothers. Others are not sure whether they will be accepted by the UNHCR or not and there is the likelihood that they might return to Sudan. Therefore, given such a situation, getting involved in political activities and in particular with the Sudanese opposition groups in Egypt will be a risky decision to take. Therefore, to avoid further problems, some women refugees choose not to get involved. Finally, differences among women, based on educational level, economic or financial situation, age, political opinion, marital status, and ethnicity, represent other hindrances to women’s active participation in public affairs. These differences are reflected in the kinds of women refugees who become involved in public affairs, the decisions they make and the kind of activities they are engaged in. For example, most of the women involved in the above identified groups have had some form of formal education. Some of them have worked in Sudan, either in government offices or in NGOs, and some of them have been active in student politics while at Sudanese universities or colleges. Thus, they have previous knowledge and experience. Similarly, some of these women are either working as domestic workers with flexible schedules or getting monthly remittance from relatives or husbands abroad, or employed by the group in which they are members (like members of the rabita). All these factors have allowed these women refugees to have the time and interest in organizational or political activities. At the same time, these very factors have positioned them differently in relation to their fellow women refugees, who are not similarly situated. On the other hand, those women who are not privileged tend to feel that they are not brilliant or capable enough to participate in activities, which the other women are involved in. Even though some of the disadvantaged women refugees participated in group work, they sometimes feel that their views are marginalized or they are relegated to the bottom of the organizational hierarchy.
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Some Suggested Solutions Just because women refugees challenge the past and cultural practices of the south, it does not mean that they reject all cultural values and traditions that have shaped and continue to shape their lives in southern Sudan and in exile. Instead, the participants pointed to specific cultural attitudes and practices that they view as oppressive and discriminatory to women, given their new experience of war, uprootedness, and exile. As I have already stated in chapter 5 the institution of the family is much valued among southern Sudanese. Thus, throughout my interviews and informal communications, the importance of family unity, motherhood, and child care were emphasized, in the face of upheaval and uncertainty. This emphasis is clearly reflected in the narratives of many participants who have taken up domestic work. These women noted that, despite the difficult circumstances under which women refugees work, they were still unable to quit their domestic work mainly because of their children. For example, as Du argues, despite the exhaustive nature of the domestic work, “you find women close their minds and do any kind of job just because of children. One cannot stay. One wants children to grow up well and not to be forced out of the apartment. This is because, if one does not pay rent on time, the landlord/lady will ask you to leave the apartment. He/she does not know or care what difficulties one is going through.”48 Another participant further noted that “[e]ven the treatment of the Egyptian women employers is not good sometimes. There are insults and so on. But women are just bearing the conditions like that, because they want to feed their children.”49 Based on the above narratives, the importance of family and children’s well being overrides the difficulties and challenges faced by women domestics. On the otherhand, through taking up jobs outside the home and managing familial responsibilities that were once considered as men’s work, these women are challenging the culturally rooted claim that men are the providers and decision makers, whereas women are dependent on men. This also challenges the representation in refugee literature of women refugees solely as victims and dependents. Similarly, women refugees’ involvement in economic, organizational, and political work represents another challenge to the public-private distinction, rendering it irrelevant, especially in the refugee context. It also discounts the belief that politics or leadership roles in public affairs are only for men. Furthermore, during the interviews, many participants were particularly ambivalent about the practice of polygamy, men’s attitudes toward gender role reversal and women’s participation in politics or group work. Some participants objected to men’s attitudes toward women within the context of polygamy as practiced in southern Sudan. As Reba put it, the practice of
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polygamy “gives me the feeling that a woman has salahiya mua’ayan or specific quality and importance, which, if they ceased to exist, she would be discarded and another woman will be married to replace her.”50 This interpretation has been confirmed by Jok M. Jok’s study of the Dinka women in the south. He argues that “as senior wives become less active or more involved with their children, the patriarch expresses the need for another younger and more active wife to attend to him, and assist in the labor of the senior wives.”51 Other participants noted the difficulties that arise in polygamous families given the war situation in Sudan and the exile situation characterized by economic hardships, an uncertain future, and a different social environment. Of special note is that the situation within polygamous families in Cairo is in fact an extension of what existed in Sudan. As Du argues, “[i]n the past, and in the rural areas specifically, polygamy does not pose problems, because each wife has her own space. That is, a home, a farm land, . . . etc.”52 Such living arrangements in my view give women in polygamous relationships the power and authority to run their day-to-day activities without the constant supervision and involvement of their husband. However, in urban areas and in exile, there are difficulties in maintaining such living arrangements as people become more dependent on money for their survival, thus conflict arises as wives tend to be settled in close proximity or within one household. The difference in positions between and among women in polygamous families that are based on educational level, age, and occupation, further determine both the way in which the husband treats his wives, and how the wives negotiate power relations within the family. For instance, given the economic situation facing southern Sudanese both in Sudan and in exile, the husband might decide that the wife who is educated and has a well-paying job can care for herself and her children, while he will support the other wife who is not working. Such an arrangement sometimes leads to more tensions between the co-wives, a view expressed by one participant who had been through a similar situation. As Du narrates: If a man marries one wife who is educated and working and the other who is not, the man will say that the wife who is working will feed her children and the one who is not working will be supported by the husband. Since the husband usually claims that he is the one responsible in the house [i.e., head of the household], then how come he is telling me to feed my children? When he married me, he married me so that I have to feed my children by myself? Even though I am working, I still need support from the husband, so problems still arise.53
The above narrative suggests that a woman’s economic position within a polygamous family determines the way in which she negotiates power
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relations and challenges the husband’s claim of being the head of the household. Similarly, in the context of Cairo, some women use their status as the main applicants at the UNHCR to assert their power and to challenge men’s authority. In other words, it gives women some power over their husbands’ decisions. This is particularly so when the husband threatens his wife with divorce or with marrying a second wife. Narrating the situation of a woman whom she knows, Mama notes that [t]here is a woman who lives in El-Maadi area. Her husband married a second wife. Then he asked her [i.e., the first wife] to divorce him so that he can include his second wife in their file at the UNHCR. But the woman refused. She told her husband that if he wants divorce, let him divorce her. The man went to the UNHCR office with the aim of including the new wife in their file. When the UNHCR staff checked their file, they found that the principal applicant is the first wife. The UNHCR staff refused to include the new wife. For the woman [i.e., the first wife] she just wants her husband to divorce her. They are still fighting over this issue.54
Some female participants reject the general perception that their work or role is only to care for children and to carry out household tasks, because they are increasingly doing other activities beside their familial duties. Similarly, during my interviews, participants not only pointed out the negative aspects of some of the cultural practices and attitudes toward women, but also they went further to suggest some solutions. To overcome the obstacles hindering women’s progress and to address issues of polygamy and conflicts arising from role reversal, several strategies were suggested, by both male and female participants. Both men and women emphasized education and raising awareness on issues affecting their lives. For example, to encourage women to become more active in politics and group activities, some participants cited the benefit of creating awareness on the importance of women organizing, and of educating them about the objectives and activities of the SPLM. Faced with the changing circumstance in the refugee context, some argued that there is a need to balance cultural practices with the demands of city or urban life in exile. This balance is particularly necessary to ease the tensions arising from the gender role reversal experienced by southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. As Yak argues, [a] husband should reconsider his perception about his wife and to give up part of karamto, or his pride. This is in order to show support for the wife who is struggling for the sake of the family. On the other hand, a woman should also understand the situation of her husband that, while in the Sudan he was the one supporting the family financially. However, in Egypt, he is
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unable, because, there are no available chances for him to get a job. It is good to preserve the good things the husband did in the Sudan.55
Similarly, some especially women emphasized the need for men to educate themselves, and to change their perception about women’s rights and a woman’s place both in the family and in the society. Within the context of southern Sudanese society, whether in Sudan or in exile, women’s demands for their rights through organizing and collective action are usually viewed as a threat to men’s authority and women’s deviation from the culturally accepted behavior. Therefore, to overcome such a perception, men need to learn more about women’s rights, and to make themselves aware that women’s demands or campaign for their rights should not only be translated as a threat or opposition to men or a rejection of all cultural values, but as a way of making women’s views heard and their contributions and achievements in life recognized and appreciated. Furthermore, women are struggling for their rights to be involved in the decisions that affect their lives as members of the society. In short, women are struggling for the improvement and transformation of their position in society, and for alterations of some cultural practices that are oppressive and discriminatory to women. On the issue of polygamy, many participants noted the difficulty in challenging the practice, which is deeply rooted in the southern Sudanese society. However, some suggested that both women and men should take the initiative to educate and enlighten themselves about the negative impact of the practice, taking into consideration the economic and health challenges facing refugees. Women in particular need to critically reflect on the issue of polygamy because, according to Reba, “there are some women, if married as second wives are very happy. They tend to think that they are better than the first wives.”56 Thus, as Du suggested that “[w]omen should come up with a program that will help them encourage each other and to discuss the problems that are facing women, and seek ways of how to help each other and to eradicate polygamy. For example, those women who are already married should share their experiences with others to enable women to come to a clear understanding of the consequences of polygamy.”57
CHAPTER 8 RACE, RACISM, AND ETHNICITY IN A REFUGEE CONTEXT
y review of literature on refugees and as I indicated in the introduction shows clearly that little has been said about issues of race, racism, and ethnicity in refugee situations, particularly in Africa. For instance, in analyzing the host-refugee relationships, the literature tends to focus mainly on the economic dimensions of these relations, which are seen as contributing partly to the unfriendly attitude of host populations toward refugees. Refugees and IDPs, for example, are frequently blamed for shortages in housing and social services, as well as for any rise in the cost of living or crimes. Similarly, when analyzing the failure of the UNHCR and donor countries to respond quickly and adequately to refugee situations in Africa, researchers tend to emphasize the UNHCR’s lack of funds resulting from the strain felt by the donor countries in implementing programs intended to improve the conditions of refugees. However, very little is said about how race and ethnicity are implicated in, for example, the refugee status determination procedures, and in the nature of support and programs extended and designed for refugees. This chapter seeks to explore issues of race, racism, and ethnicity as they are played out in relation to southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Using an integrative antiracism perspective that emphasizes that different forms of oppressions are “interlocked”1 allows for the understanding of how race, ethnicity, and gender determine the outcome of the relationship between southern Sudanese refugees and the host population in Cairo. Viewing racism as a representational process,2 and as a mode of exclusion, inferiorization, and exploitation3 further provide insights into how the Egyptians view and treat southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Therefore, in an attempt to address these issues, the chapter focuses on three important areas: the relationship between southern Sudanese women refugees working
M
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as domestic workers and their female Egyptian employers; host-refugee relationships in general; and the host population’s attitudes toward southern Sudanese women refugees in the streets of Cairo, especially concerning the sexual harassment by men experienced by southern Sudanese women refugees. To uncover the complexities and the dynamics within these areas, the analysis is seated within the context of the host country’s economic situation, and of the social, religious, political, and cultural ideologies shaping its people’s attitudes and understanding toward outsiders, in particular, black people. It is within such a context that one can explore why female Egyptian employers, for instance, overwork and mistreat their domestic workers from southern Sudan. This approach also provides insights into why southern Sudanese women refugees are targets of sexual harassment in the streets of Cairo, and why southern Sudanese refugees experience discrimination, exploitation, and name calling. The Refugee-Host Relationship In an attempt to address the dynamics within the refugee-host relations, I focus on the economic aspect as well as on the ethnic and class relations in Cairo’s society and how these have led to the representation of refugees from southern Sudan as a problem and a threat to the social order of the city. Like many developing countries, Egypt was incorporated into the global economy as early as the nineteenth century. Global economic realities change rapidly and Egypt is affected by such changes as well.4 In the early 1980s through to the early 1990s, for example, life in Egypt was relatively good for both Egyptians and those Sudanese, mostly students, who had settled there. For instance, as I noted in the introduction, the standard of living for the Sudanese early arrivals was relatively high, that is, housing and other social services were relatively cheap, compared with today’s standard. However, with a worsening of the economic situation, and an increasing influx of refugees from Sudan and other African countries, life in Egypt, especially in Cairo, has become very difficult, both for the refugees, and for lower income Egyptians. For example, the high demand for housing has led to an increase in rent. As noted in chapter 6, many southern Sudanese refugees live in crowded apartment blocks in some of Cairo’s poorest neighborhoods and share space with Egyptians who are also struggling to survive. Furthermore, food and other social services have become expensive, as both refugees and some lower income Egyptians rely on them for their survival. These situations have negatively affected relations between refugees and the host population, as the latter tend to blame the refugees for the increase in rent and food prices. According to the head teacher of the Nusiya School, which is
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located in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Cairo: In the past some food items in the market here were cheap. For example, the birds, which most Egyptians in the area eat, were cheap. But now prices have increased due to the presence of Sudanese in the area. So the Egyptians are not happy. They feel that the Sudanese have contributed to the increase in the prices. Also, some of the poor and low paying jobs, which the Egyptians have abandoned, are now being done by the Sudanese who have no way out. So the Egyptians in the area are not happy. They feel that we [Sudanese] have taken up their jobs, and have contributed to the increase in the prices of food and rent.
Similarly, as noted by Anita Fabos, who was the director of Forced Migration and Refugee Studies at the American University in Cairo, “[t]here is a perception that there are so many problems at home, these migrants [refugees] simply cannot be absorbed. The economy cannot afford to absorb them. The perception of Egyptians is that all these people come here as scroungers.”5 Such perceptions have further led to rising tensions between refugees and the host population, exemplified by the increasing occurrences of rock throwing (which was not common before), name calling, refugee round-ups and detentions without a specific reason, and the other kinds of daily harassment experienced by southern Sudanese refugees on the streets of Cairo. Many participants I interviewed noted the unfriendly relationship between the refugees and the Egyptians. Noting the words or phrases used by many Egyptians in the streets directed toward southern Sudanese refugees, one can argue that much of such unfriendly relationship can partly be attributed to the status of southern Sudanese as refugees and to skin color differences. One participant summed up the experience of the Cairo refugees: Most of the host people have no respect for people, especially southern Sudanese. They see southern Sudanese as if they are not human beings. Insults and name calling are daily experiences of Sudanese refugees. The grabbing and pulling of women’s breasts or handbags in the street, throwing of rocks, garbage bags, . . . etc., on southern Sudanese are also common. Most of these incidents happen in low-income neighbourhoods, and in public transportation like the buses and the underground “Metro.”6
Worth noting is the fact that, such incidents, which are directed toward southern Sudanese, have been in existence since southern Sudanese started to come to Egypt. However, they reached their peak in the early 2000s with the rising number of Sudanese in Cairo. The al-mughadas Church
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Riots of July 24, 2001, between Sudanese refugees and Egyptians in one of Cairo’s neighborhoods is a case in point. As described by Rox who was in the church during the riot: The incident started when a public bus struck a southern Sudanese man by the al-mughadas Church. Some of the Sudanese refugees who were there at the time of the accident demanded that the injured man be driven to the hospital. When the bus driver rejected their demand, they smashed the bus windshield. Then a fight broke out between Egyptians in the area and the Sudanese who were at the church. Egyptians were throwing rocks at us [Sudanese]. So we had to retreat into the church compound and lock the church gate. The Egyptians burned the priest’s car, which was parked in front of the church entrance. They also broke the gate. Police were later called in to stop the fighting.7
This incident in my view represents a turning point in the relationship between Sudanese and the host population, as well as between the church and the southern Sudanese community in Cairo. This is the first time that an overt conflict broke out between Egyptians and Sudanese, since southern Sudanese began coming to Egypt in the 1970s mainly as students. Similarly, during my stay in Egypt in the early 1990s, all churches, including al-mughadas church, were usually guarded by two to four policemen. However, after the July 24 incident and up to the time of my research, the al mughadas church was guarded by a truck full of riot police, especially on Sundays. The number of the policemen has also been increased at other churches where Sudanese attend services, especially on Sundays. In the past also, Sudanese refugees were allowed to enter the al-mughadas church at any time and could stay inside the church compound until late at night. However, after the incident, the church administration changed its policy to minimize the presence of people in the church premises. This policy change occurred at the time of research. As a result, during working days, the only people who are allowed to enter the church compound are the Muwanga school children, teachers, other staff working in the church, and any who has a prior appointment with the church administration personnel.8 In the evenings, refugees are only allowed to be in the church compound until eight at night, after which they are asked to leave and the church gate is closed. Similarly, before the riots some Sudanese used to sell their products—such as food items, fabrics, and other products brought from Sudan—either inside the church compound or besides the church fence. However, all these activities were stopped on the grounds that they attract many people which in turn leads to conflicts. Racial, ethnic, class, cultural, and religious aspects further interact to shape Egyptians’ attitudes toward refugees in general, and refugees from the
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Sudan and other African countries in particular. For example, Palestinian, Somali, and northern Sudanese refugees, who share Egypt’s dominant religion (Islam), and some of Egypt’s cultural background are viewed and treated differently than refugees from southern and other marginalized areas of Sudan. Racial and ethnic factors also play a significant role in the differentiation among Sudanese refugees in Cairo. Thus, although some Sudanese (like people from western Sudan and some Muslim southern Sudanese) share a common religion (Islam) with the northern Sudanese and the majority of the host population, nevertheless, because of their race and ethnicity, they are positioned differently from northern Sudanese in Cairo. Similarly, although southern Sudanese who are Christians share a common religion with the Christian community of the host population, still, they too are discriminated against on the basis of their skin color and culture. Given such experiences, the Egyptian attitude toward refugees is seen by many southern Sudanese refugees as racist. Referring to the daily insults and name calling experienced by many southern Sudanese refugees, Rasha argues that “[t]here is a racist attitude shown by Egyptians toward Sudanese. For example, such comments as ‘wata dalamat,’ or ‘ya girid’ [i.e., darkness or monkey], Egyptians say these things to southern Sudanese because we [southern Sudanese] are black.”9 One participant during the nesaya’s discussion group agreed, saying, “[f]or Egyptians a Sudanese is always below them in the racial hierarchy. Not only being below them, but the fact that you [i.e., a Sudanese] come here and are working for them [as domestic worker], you are considered the lowest in the class ranking.” Furthermore, analyzing the different phrases directed toward southern Sudanese every day, one can clearly see that they revolve around skin color, or blackness. For many Egyptians, being black is usually associated with racial inferiority and slavery. As Gol argues, “Egyptians see the black person as a person without a value.”10 Another participant went further to say that “Egyptians will look at you and they will start laughing. They will come close to you and touch your skin and make fun of you. Life here is very difficult. Even now I cannot believe that I have finished one year in this place [Cairo].”11 Social structure and class relations further influence the nature of the relationship between refugees and the host population. Historically, Egyptian society has been divided into several classes, each with its specific role and position within the society. Using the Marxist class perspective, Mahmoud Hussein identified five categories within the class structures that existed in the early 1900s in Egypt: the foreign or Western bourgeoisie, who dominated the market; the local ruling class of big landowners; the middle bourgeoisie, which consisted of rural and urban strata, deriving their income from the exploitation of others; the petty bourgeoisie, which was made up
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of a heterogeneous social division, who possessed a small amount of capital, land, or special training that enabled them to sustain their lives; and the proletariat and the proletarianized masses living in the countryside and in the cities. This last class, according to Hussein, made up the majority of the Egyptian population.12 However, with the changing social and economic situation in the country, in the second half of the twentieth century, these classes experienced rapid transformations, particularly in terms of the nature and sources of wealth accumulation. As noted by Galal Amin, “[w]hile income and wealth continue to be important criteria for classifying the population into three classes [i.e., higher, middle, and low classes], the nature and the source of income and wealth have lost much of their importance.”13 For example, in the first half of the twentieth century, and as noted by Hussein above, the sources of income and wealth accumulation included landownership, higher education, affiliation to a certain family, and the ability to adopt a Western lifestyle. However, due to the changes in the economy, new sources of income and wealth acquisition emerged. These are what Amin refers to as “intermediary activities of all kinds,” including trade, contractor activities, and commissions of all types.14 Like the rest of the country, Cairo’s society is also divided along rigid class lines. In her study of lower middle class women in Cairo, Arlene E. Macleod notes that “Cairene society is divided by class and people have a strong sense both of hierarchy and of their place in this social and economic ranking system.”15 Macleod identified four different classes that exist in Cairo: the upper middle class, middle middle class, lower middle class, and the poor masses.16 Whether the society is classified into three, four, or five classes, it is worth arguing that a class hierarchy, based on wealth and income, is clearly observed within the Egyptian society. This strong sense of one’s position in the social and economic hierarchy is clearly reflected in the social structures of the society, such as educational and governmental institutions, residential areas, and so on. In other words, the work one does or the college and the university a student is enrolled in, is determined by one’s class. For example, most of the Egyptian students who attend the American University in Cairo or such specializations as Medicine, Economics, Foreign Relations, and Engineering, for instance, are children of wealthy Egyptians who can afford to pay for their children’s education. Similarly, as a reflection of one’s position, it is also common for lower income Egyptians, like the Bawab (i.e., the door man), for example, to stand up and bow in respect when a rich man or woman is entering the building he is guarding. In other words, and as noted by Donald Wilber, “[s]ocial bonds among [people] are based on behavior patterns of respect and deference. Older person and those of higher social class are tendered ceremonial expressions of respect by their juniors and inferiors.”17
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In Cairo, both economic and social aspects distinguish a member of one class from another. The most visible of these are the clothes a person wears and the neighborhood in which a person lives. Thus, as noted by Arlene E. Macleod, “members of the upper classes generally wear fashionable western dress, often purchased or imported from Paris or Rome, while the middle classes dress in well-worn and often handmade clothes styled in more modest and less extreme western fashion.”18 Similarly, residential areas of the city are easily distinguished as generally wealthy or poor. For example, most of the wealthy Egyptians in Cairo live in such residential areas as Garden City, Zamalek, Al Muhandiseen, and Al Dokki, some sections of El-Maadi and Masr-el-Gedida, among others. It is also within some of these areas that most of the foreign embassies, financial institutions, and other international agencies are located. On the other hand, most of the members of the low middle class, lower classes, and the poor occupy the other sections of the city. It is also within these sections that many southern Sudanese live. The class relations analyzed above have several implications for the relationship between refugees and the host people. Because of their status, economic situation, and the kind of work they do, refugees always fall below all class divisions in Cairo, making them targets of exploitation, discrimination, and mistreatment, be it in the streets, the neighborhoods in which they live, or in the homes of the wealthy Egyptians in which they work as domestic workers. Many participants noted how being a southern Sudanese, a refugee, and economically disadvantaged has aggravated their situation. Commenting on the situation of domestic workers, the chairperson of the political wing of the SPLM/A office in Cairo I interviewed notes that generally “Egyptians have the mentality that those who are rich must oppress the poor. [Therefore], the bad treatment of domestic workers, for instance, by their women employers is not only directed toward southern Sudanese refugees, but to Egyptian domestics or shaghalat (single shaghala) as well.” Other participants place their understanding of their relationship to the Egyptians in context, by comparing their present situation with their situation in the past. As indicated in the introduction, the living standard of those Sudanese who came to Egypt in the early 1980s through to the early 1990s was relatively high. This was reflected, for example, in the way they used to dress, the educational institutions they attended, and the neighborhoods in which they lived. This lifestyle allowed them some respect from some Egyptians. However, as more and more people arrived from Sudan in the late 1990s, the situation worsened, making Sudanese, in general, and southern Sudanese, in particular, more vulnerable to discrimination and harassment. As Rox, who has been in Egypt since the early 1990s, put it,
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“[a]t the moment there is no respect for Sudanese. In the past, Egyptians did respect Sudanese at least, but now we lost that respect. You know now the majority of Sudanese are depressed. Most of them have turned to alcoholism.”19 In addition, and as I analyzed in the introduction, the representation of refugees as a threat or a danger to social order and national security has informed the host government’s policies and practices toward refugees. In other words, this representation has influenced the way refugees are viewed and treated. Because of their skin color, cultural practices, religious beliefs, and different lifestyles, refugees from southern Sudan and other African countries are usually seen as “criminals” (male) and “prostitutes” (female). For example, after the al-mughadas Church Riot mentioned earlier, the July 30, 2001, edition of the progovernment weekly Rose El Youssef newspaper wrote, “‘Refugees: Guests or Criminals? Many African immigrants are engaging in illicit activities such as drug dealing,’ the popular weekly magazine charged: ‘They get drunk in the streets and harass women, throw wild parties, and in general act like hooligans. Is this a way for guests in our country to behave?’ ” 20 Viewed as criminals and prostitutes, southern Sudanese refugees have become the targets of police round-ups, detention, and possible deportation.21 This situation is evident in the round-up and detention of many Sudanese, mostly southern Sudanese in late January 2003 in Cairo. According to an official working with the JRM based in one of the churches in Cairo, which helps the refugees, “[m]ore than 250 people were detained in one part of Cairo, men, women and children, no matter what their status with the UNHCR or whether they had a current visa.”22 In the past, round-ups and detentions were mostly limited to public areas and among men only. However, currently, and as the above quote suggests, people, both men and women, were taken both from the streets and from their apartments. The security people who round up refugees are not usually in uniform, but wear plainclothes, thus making it difficult for refugees to differentiate between a security man and an ordinary person. This state of affairs had made southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo live in a state of fear and uncertainty. As a result, whether their rights are violated, or they are wrongly accused, detained, and mistreated, rather than reporting the case to the authorities concerned, refugees tend to maintain their silence. This is because reporting such incidents usually invites more problems. According to Rox, “[n]ow if a refugee goes to the police station to report an incident, the Egyptian police will see him or her as an irresponsible or alcoholic person. For example, if a southern Sudanese refugee is struck by a car and is brought to a hospital emergency room, the nurses’ or doctors’ first impression is that he is drunk.”23
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In connection with the above narrative, many factors have contributed to the rise of alcohol consumption among southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo, especially men. As indicated in chapter 6, economic hardships, lack of educational opportunities, the feeling of hopelessness and uncertainty relating to the UNHCR process of resettlement and lack of jobs for men represent some of the structural problems that push many male refugees to alcoholism. Although alcohol drinking is not illegal in Egypt, people are expected to drink in their homes/apartments, and if they become drunk, they should stay indoors and not roam the streets causing trouble. However, as many southern Sudanese refugees (mostly men) drink with friends in the apartments of the women refugees who brew local beer or aregi, they eventually have to return to their apartments. On their way home, they sometimes encounter problems with Egyptians. Though not all refugees are alcoholics, however, the “bad” behaviors of a few, is usually generalized to all refugees. Given their experience in their encounters with the host population, many refugees have developed coping strategies to handle the emotional and physical pressure they experience daily from the host population. Among those I interviewed, the most common strategy used in responding to the daily insults, name calling, and discrimination is to ignore what the Egyptians say or do to them. Narrating her experience with Egyptian youths in the street, Du notes that: One day on my way home, I was slapped in the face and I fell down. At that time I was sick and very weak. I got up and I cried. Then I said, God, you know. So I continued on my way home, and they [Egyptian young men] were laughing and running. They never care. So like this, what will I do? I cannot run after them, and I cannot do anything to them, but go home and endure the pain. And I think three quarters of Sudanese are suffering from a similar situation.24
Another participant further narrated her experiences with Egyptians in the neighborhood: If you have no faith in God you cannot live in Egypt. For example, if you live in the upper floors of the apartment building, if your clothes or any of your belongings fall down from the balcony, and if the people on the lower floors find it, they will not return it to you. I lost my handbag, which fell from the balcony of my apartment. You walk in the street, you are insulted, samara, or chocolata [chocolate], and you will not open your mouth. This is because if you did, they [Egyptians] will come and beat you up. We [southern Sudanese] cannot live in Egypt. Instead of living here I think it is better to go back to the Sudan and die.25
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Refugees have also developed a collective strategy for how to avoid conflict with the host population. As the head teacher of the Nusiya School put it, When they [Egyptians] see other foreigners, they are very rude and violent to them. But we [Sudanese] try our best to live in peace with them by all means. This is a situation we are living in now. For example, if one of us is hit [or beaten] by an Egyptian we do not respond in the same way, because if we did all the Egyptians present will get involved, and they might kill any Sudanese in the street after that. If they kill one of us, we will just be patient and not retaliate so as not to create more problems to other fellow Sudanese.
Based on the above narratives, one can argue that southern Sudanese refugees in Cairo, irrespective of their class and gender, are living in an extreme state of humiliation, psychological pressure, and emotional pain, mainly because of who they are. The only place where these refugees can find relative peace of mind is either inside their apartments or within the church premises where they interact freely with each other, free of Egyptians. Southern Sudanese Women Refugees as Domestics Recent studies on paid domestic work have documented the experiences of female domestic workers. Some of the issues addressed include relationships between domestic workers and their employers, kinds of domestic work done and their impact on the lives of domestic workers, living conditions, violence against domestic workers, and the ways in which gender, class, migration, and domestic labor combine to oppress women.26 This section explores the interplay of refugeeness, gender, race, class, and the history of “domestic slavery” in determining the outcome of the relationships between southern Sudanese women domestic workers and their Egyptian women employers. For purposes of clarification, a distinction is made between migrant domestic workers and refugees doing paid domestic work. On the one hand, studies on migrant domestic workers showed that female migrant workers who leave the countries of their origin do so with a clear purpose to work as domestic workers. Most of these women secured their jobs either through informal social networks—through a family or a friend—or recruiting agencies, churches, and NGOs.27 On the other hand, the women refugee domestic workers I interviewed migrated to Egypt for the sole purpose of appling for the UNHCR for resettlement. However, the circumstances they found themselves in after their arrival
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forced them to seek domestic work to sustain themselves and their families. A domestic worker or a domestic in the context of this book refers to a person who works in their employer’s home, performing typical domestic chores such as washing, cleaning the house, cooking, caring for the children and the elderly, serving food, and other activities performed within the household. Since getting a job in the formal economic sector of the Egyptian society is impossible, many women refugees entered the informal labor market as domestic workers. The domestic work done by these women is referred to among the Sudanese refugee community in Cairo as shughl Oshin (or Oshin work), in mainly wealthy Egyptian families, and in a few residences of foreign nationals.28 Before detailing their experiences as domestics, I first provide a brief historical background about the institution of “domestic slavery,” which has existed both in Sudan and in Egypt until the abolition of slavery at the end of the nineteenth century.29 Within this background, one can clearly understand the nature of the relationship between southern Sudanese women refugees working as domestic workers and their Egyptian women employers. The purpose of this background is not intended to provide a detailed analysis of the institution of slavery in Egypt, but to set the stage for analyzing the experiences of southern Sudanese domestic workers.30 The Institution of “Domestic Slavery” The available sources I reviewed that dealt with Egyptian slavery and, in particular, “domestic or hareem slavery” mainly focused on the nineteenth century Egypt. Before Egypt’s subjection under the British rule (1882–1914), the slave trade flourished in Egypt throughout the nineteenth century, supplying soldiers, concubines, and servants.31 During this period, slaves were imported mainly from the Caucasus, Ethiopia, Sudan, and other parts of Sub-Saharan Africa.32 Like Egypt, Sudan was part of the nineteenth-century slave trade, playing an influential role in exporting slaves to Egypt and other Arab countries.33 Significantly, slaves exported from the Sudan to Egypt were obtained from the non-Muslim people of the country. According to M. W. Daly, “[s]laveraiding in non-Muslim regions was at first sporadic, but introduction of the steamship allowed penetration of southernmost riverine regions. Armed with rifles, Egyptians (and other foreigners) [and later northern Sudanese] scoured the south for the slave-market of the Near East.”34 Slaves from southern Sudan increased in number during the Ottoman Caliphate period in Egypt (1517–1914) and in particular during the reign of Muhammad Ali, an Albanian Muslim officer in the Turkish forces who became the Pasha (viceroy) of Egypt in 1805. He invaded Sudan in the 1820s, mainly to
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exploit its wealth, especially its gold and slaves. According to Holt and Daly, for Muhammad Ali Pasha “[a] conquest of the Nilotic Sudan would bring under his control a principal channel of the slave-trade.”35 Race, ethnicity, and other characteristics determined both the price and the kind of work carried out by female slaves. As Soha Abdel Kader pointed out, in the “slave market, slave girls were classified, in terms of prices and descending order of preference, according to skin color—white slaves were the most in demand and highest in price, while brown, or bronze and black girls were less in demand and much cheaper.”36 Ahmad A. Sikianga in his analysis of the experiences of female slaves in the northern cities of Sudan during the nineteenth century noted that “[y]oung girls, particularly Ethiopians, commanded higher prices, as they were desired as concubines and domestic servants.”37 Judith Tucker further identified four types of female slaves, which appeared in the Egyptian court records she reviewed. These include “al-baida (white), al-samra (brown or light colored), al-habashiyya (light colored) [i.e., female slave from Ethiopia] and al-sauda (black).”38 As the above records suggest, the al-sauda slave always comes at the bottom of the hierarchy both in terms of the range of prices and the work carried out. According to the prevailing ranking, according to skin color, it was common, for example, for white female slaves to be preferred as concubines, whereas black female slaves were mainly employed as domestic servants. Judith Tucker further noted that “Blacks, making up the bulk of the slave population, were found throughout the society. Most observers noted their presence in domestic service in upper and middle-class households where the degree of drudgery depended, in large part, on the wealth of the family.”39 Studying the memoir of a nineteenth-century Egyptian princess, Soha Abdel Kader further noted that “all household chores [i.e.] cleaning, washing of clothes, cooking, the serving of meals, the collection and purification of water in jars—were performed by the assortment of male and female servants. The responsibility of the lady of the house . . . was simply the control of money and the giving of orders to the servants.”40 Besides racial considerations, ethnicity also played a great role in the differentiation of slaves. For example, although al-habashiyya and al-sauda slaves were all from Africa, still they were differentiated on the bases of their skin color, making the former whose skin color is lighter preferable to the latter.41 Such distinctions based on skin color are still prevalent in present-day Cairo, not only in determining who performs what sort of work but also as a ranking system among Sudanese refugees and among Egyptian people as well. For example, among Egyptians, differences exist both in terms of their physical features and religious faith. Physically, Egyptians
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who live in the Delta region have a lighter skin color than those living in the Upper Nile Valley region bordering Sudan. Religiously, the majority of Egyptians is Muslims, and the minority is Coptic Christians. These distinctions further determine the nature of the work done by individuals. For example, Egyptians from the Upper Nile Valley region predominate in the domestic services in the cities of the Delta region.42 Furthermore, Egyptians also make distinctions between southern and northern Sudanese on the bases of religion and physical appearance. Because some northern Sudanese are light skinned, and some of the women wear the tobe (i.e., the northern Sudanese traditional dress), Egyptians in the street commonly refer to them as Sudania (female). However, southern Sudanese, because of their dark skin color and their “African dress,” imported mainly from other Sub-Saharan African countries, are usually referred to as Afriqi (i.e., African), or mostly samara or al-sauda or ya-sauda. Similarly, given the economic disparities and the racial and ethnic differentiation among Sudanese, it is common, for example, to find more southern Sudanese women refugees working as domestic workers, as compared to northern Sudanese, the majority of whom are economically well off and are not engaged in domestic work. Because of Sudan’s history of being under Egyptian control during the Ottoman Caliphate and the British rule, and the fact that the slaves imported from Sudan during the nineteenth century were mainly from southern Sudan, the institution of domestic slavery has many implications for the relationship between Egypt and Sudan, both in the past and the present. In her chapter titled “The Making of the Egyptian Nation,” Beth Baron notes that “[d]omestic slavery stood at the center of Egypt’s relationship to the Sudan, which Mehmet [Mohammed] Ali’s armies had conquered in the 1820s and over which the British and Egyptians later vied for control.”43 Represented as a conquered people, coupled with the history of slavery that existed between the two nations, Egypt and Egyptians have come to view Sudan and Sudanese—particularly southern Sudanese who are different culturally, linguistically, and religiously—as inferiors both racially and culturally. This view is clearly reflected in the way Egyptian people of all classes view and treat southern Sudanese refugees in present-day Cairo. According to Baron, the “Sudanese that most elite Egyptians know best were the female domestic slaves, and the Sudan in post-war cartoons often appeared as a highly sexualized, nearly naked black women with exaggerated facial and sexual features. Egypt on the other hand, appeared as a light-skinned, modestly dressed and veiled upper class woman.”44 Experience has shown that old perceptions and practices die hard. As a result, in present-day Cairo it is common to hear such phrases as samara, al-sauda, or ya-sauda directed toward
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southern Sudanese by Egyptians in the street, or by Egyptian women employers to their domestic workers from southern Sudan. In part as a consequence of the long history of domestic slavery, the harsh and controlling treatment of domestic workers by their employers still prevails. Women and Paid Domestic Work Two forms of domestic workers exist among southern Sudanese women refugees in Cairo: the live-out domestic worker and the live-in worker or mubeed. Most of these women domestics work in wealthy Egyptian families. Only a few work with foreigners, mostly from Western countries, whose numbers were diminishing in Cairo at the time of my research. Depending on the nature of work carried out, and the woman employer’s demands, the live-out domestic worker usually leaves her apartment at around 6:00 am or 7:00 am, arrives at 8:00 am or 9:00 am, and will work the whole day, then come home at around 10:00 pm or 11:00 pm. The mubeed, on the other hand, lives in the employer’s home and is allowed to visit her family only on weekends. The length of time spent working depends largely on the nature of the work done and the employer’s needs, demands, and attitude. As one participant put it, “[s]ometimes the mubeed will work the whole day and will sleep at around 2:00 a.m. It is really hard and exhausting.”45 The kind of work done by refugee domestic workers ranges from house cleaning, laundry, ironing, dish washing, meal serving, elderly care, and child care. Since the work done by these women is not regulated by the Egyptian government or any other labor laws, these women refugees are sometimes subjected to exploitative and humiliating working conditions. For example, the Egyptian woman employer determines how much the domestic worker will be paid per month. The amount paid is not calculated based on the hours spent working, but estimated by the woman employer. The employer also determines the period of time spent working, as well as how a domestic worker should conduct herself while at work, that is, the worker has to follow a prescribed code of behavior while at work. This code of behavior might include restricted use of the home phone, designated space, and water drinking cup to be used by the worker, restricted mobility, among others. In most cases, the amount paid for the domestic worker does not correspond to the work she does. According to Glo who works as a domestic worker, “[i]n the past, the mubeed was paid about US$150 or US$200 dollars per month. But now because of the increasing number of southern Sudanese women refugees seeking this kind of work, the pay has dropped to about US$100 or US$125, which is very low given the kind of work carried out” and the time spent doing the work.46
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Throughout my interviews, participants told me how demanding and controlling their Egyptian women employers are to them and to other southern Sudanese women refugees who also work as domestics. Complaints about overwork and lack of rest or sleep, and privacy, particularly for the mubeed, were recurrent themes throughout the interviews. As Zuzu, who works as a domestic worker for an Egyptian family, notes: A Sudanese woman inside an Egyptian home is treated like any machine. However, still you can turn a machine off and on. But as a servant you must start work from 8:00 am to 1:00 am [the next day] and you do every thing. Amshy wa ta’li, ta’li wa amshy, that is, “go and come,” “come and go.” When there are visitors in the house, my Egyptian woman employer will insult me in front of them. So Oshin work in Cairo is an abuse for Sudanese women.47
Based on the above narrative, one can argue that the workload of domestic workers has not changed much from that of a nineteenth-century female slave. This is particularly true in terms of the kind of work done and the time spent carrying out the work. What has changed might be the status of the domestic worker and the way in which the work is carried out. That is, the domestic worker is a free person, who in verbal agreement with the terms of the job agrees to work as a domestic worker. She can also decide to leave the job at any time deemed necessary. Also, some of the work is now done through the use of modern technology, such as a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner. Furthermore, the hiring and firing of a domestic servant remains the responsibility of the woman employer. Because of the increase in the number of Sudanese women refugees seeking domestic work, some Egyptian women employers have used this as an opportunity to exploit further the labor of these women. Because of the difficulties in getting a job through the church, coupled with the lack of official channels such as recruiting agencies to secure domestic work, some women who sought domestic work tend to go through Egyptian middle men, or other fellow Sudanese, who make contacts with potential employers. When a job is secured, an interview is arranged between the employer and the domestic worker, usually at the employer’s home. This interview usually involves the domestic worker providing her background information and work experience. This is how Zuzu narrated her first encounter with her employer: At first she will give you work to do, and will tell you that she is going to test you for one week. After that, if she is not satisfied with your work, she will tell you to leave. During the seven days you are given a list of conditions to abide by. These include, for example, “no use of telephone, no going out without permission especially if you are a mubeed, if you are sick, and she is
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not home, you should not phone a friend or go out to buy ‘revo’ for pain relief.” Therefore, the process is very harsh, and dealing with Egyptians is difficult.48
Many participants noted that the outcome of the relationship between the woman employer and her domestic worker depended largely on the behavior and attitude of the former, as well as how the latter responded to her employer’s questions and demands. According to Mama, Some Egyptian women employers, who have seen your loyalty to them and if, you are doing a good job will give you food; As for a place to live, I have worked as a mubeed before so I was given a room to sleep in and to keep my personal belongings. What I learned is that Egyptian women employers do not want you [a worker] to talk back when they are talking. If the woman employer is quarrelling and yelling at you, you just keep quiet, do not respond. Just say hadir, hadir, that is, Yes Sir/Madam.49
From the employer’s point of view, and based on the way in which class relations are structured in Egypt, it can be inferred that a domestic worker clearly has no right to talk back to or question the judgment of her employer; her duty is to obey and respect the boss. As indicated earlier, this perception characterizes the master-slave relationship, as well as the relationship between the rich and the poor, or upper and lower classes of society. As Donald Wilber clearly argued, the “Egyptian lives in an authoritarian atmosphere, in which questioning the judgment or decision of a superior is not permissible behaviour.”50 These attitudes and relationships are still prevalent and common in contemporary Cairo society. However, southern Sudanese women refugees, who are not used to this kind of treatment or relationship, and who do not tolerate verbal abuse, particularly if they are innocent, usually talk back. Sometimes they answer a question by a question which is a common practice among Sudanese in general. This usually aggravates the situation, and as a result, domestic workers usually do not stay long in one job. Upon experiencing hardship and mistreatment, they leave and look for another job. However, the view held by some domestic workers that disrespectful domestics were to be blamed for the poor relationship with their employers was not generally shared by the majority of the participants who are, or have been, domestic workers. On the contrary, these women have seen how other southern Sudanese domestics have been mistreated by their employers, both verbally and physically. Many women I interviewed, for example, narrated countless incidents some women employers used to justify the ill treatment of domestic workers. These incidents range from withholding wages to accusing domestic workers of theft, from the
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provision of poor living conditions, especially for the mubeed, to the inflicting of verbal and physical abuse. In terms of the poor living conditions for the mubeed, one participant described her own situation and that of a young girl who also works in the same building as follows: I work as a mubeed. I sleep in the balcony on the floor. Also my employer told me that there is a young girl about fifteen years old from the southern Sudan who works in an apartment in the same building I am working in. I have seen the girl. She is also sleeping in the balcony on the floor. Also as a maid you are not allowed to use any drinking cup in the house to drink water. If she [woman employer] finds you drinking from any cup she will get mad at you.51
Reflecting on the living and working conditions of the majority of domestic workers, it can be argued that paid domestic work shows that women have different experiences of housework, mediated by such social differences as class, race, age, and refugeeness. Issues of power and authority also come into play in the relationship between the women employers and domestic worker, as well as in relation to spaces in the employer’s house that each occupies. For example, as the narratives of these women suggest, the female employer determines the hours the worker spends working, the space in which the mubeed sleeps, the wages and the code of conduct that the worker should follow. In such a situation, the domestic worker is placed at a disadvantageous position in relation to the employer and with no control of her life and labor. Another issue that leads to tension between domestic workers and their female employers is the withholding of wages. Some domestic workers who planned to save their earnings sometimes make arrangements with their employers regarding payment. For example, at the end of the month the domestic worker will take part of her monthly pay and will ask her employer to save the other part for her future use. However, such an arrangement usually leads to conflict the moment the domestic worker asks for her savings, and the employer sometimes refuses to give her the money. Explaining the situation of some women refugees who have made such arrangements, Glo noted that Some of our young southern Sudanese women who work as mubeed, and are unwilling to contribute to their families’ needs, usually take a small portion of her monthly pay for her personal needs, and leave the other with her Egyptian employer. After a while this cash accumulates, and for Egyptians if cash accumulated it becomes difficult for them to give it to you. Thus, for the employer, the best way to keep the money is to accuse the domestic worker of theft.52
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When such a case occurs, domestic workers tend to quit their jobs, rather than go to the authorities to report mistreatment or wrongdoing by their employers, out of fear that they will be charged of something they did not do. In addition to withholding payment, it was alleged that some Egyptian women employers accuse domestic workers of theft if a domestic worker quits due to mistreatment or when the employer learns that her domestic worker is accepted by the UNHCR and is in the process to be resettled in a third country. Zuzu said, [i]f she [the Egyptian employer] finds out that you [the domestic worker] have applied for the UNHCR and she knows that you want to leave work, she will accuse you of something. This is what happened to our colleague here in the office. She was accepted by the UNHCR. So when her Egyptian employer learned of that, she accused her of stealing her jewellery, money, and other items. She asked our colleague to pay her 10,000 Egyptian Pounds [approximately US$2,500] as the amount of the things she had stolen. In the end, because the domestic worker said she did not take these things, and cannot afford to pay the amount, the employer put her in jail for some time. She was later released.53
Because of fear of being accused of theft, many domestic workers tend to keep secret their personal information particularly those related to the UNHCR process. Even when deciding to leave the job, either due to unfavorable working conditions or resettlement, she will do that without the knowledge of her employer. Rasha noted that a domestic worker from southern Sudan whom she knows decided to leave her mubeed work due to mistreatment. However, as Rasha narrate, for this woman “to get out of the employer’s house was a problem, because the employer won’t let her go. So she [worker] had to hide herself from the members of the employing family, because they were looking for her to stop her from leaving. When they [employer’s family] failed to find her, the employer told the bawab of the building to inform them when he sees her. The employer’s family accused the domestic work of stealing from them.”54 As experienced by many southern Sudanese refugees in the streets of Cairo, domestic workers sometimes experience verbal and physical abuses as well. Name calling is also common within the families in which these women refugees work. Similarly, during my interviews, participants noted the case of a young, southern Sudanese woman refugee, who died in her place of work, whom, they claimed, was pushed from the balcony by members of the employing family. However, according to the participants, the employing family maintained that the woman committed suicide. Narrating the incident, the representative of the political wing of the
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SPLM/A office in Cairo I interviewed, and who was authorized to follow up on the case, noted that [l]egal procedures that are supposed to be followed in a case of a suicide were breached. For example, the body of the woman should not be removed from the location until after the police arrive at the crime scene to determine the cause of the incident. However, before that could happen the employing family took the body of the woman to the hospital, then, they reported the case to the police. Here the case becomes complicated since evidence was tampered with. Therefore, it was difficult for our office to pursue the case. As a result, people’s rights, especially those of the domestic worker, are violated and her safety endangered.
Issues of ethnicity and religion are also played out in the process of employing a domestic worker from Sudan. Some participants reported that Egyptian women employers usually inquire about the ethnic and religious background of their domestic workers. As Zuzu put it, “[s]uch questions as, ‘Are you from southern Sudan?’ and in Muslim families in particular, ‘Are you a Muslim?’ are now common.”55 However, many domestic workers I interviewed noted that some Muslim families do treat their domestic workers more fairly than their Christian counterparts. Based on these experiences and reports about mistreatment and abuse of domestic workers, some church groups, community, and women’s organizations have taken measures to ensure the relative safety of domestic workers. As noted in chapter 6, for instance, the church groups working with refugees have taken some responsibility for securing jobs for women refugees seeking domestic work. In this manner, the churches will have access to the name, address, and telephone number of the employing family. This enables the church personnel to trace all women refugees who got their domestic work through the church. Similarly, the rabita has a system of tracking and ensuring the safety of the health care providers who are trained and got their jobs through rabita. As noted in chapter 7, one of the objectives of rabita is to secure jobs for the health care providers they train. For example, after making contact and securing a job with the employer, an employee of rabita who is fluent in colloquial Egyptian Arabic will accompany the health care provider to the employing family and sign the contract and other necessary documents. Any concern raised by the employing family is reported directly to rabita for necessary review and action. Accordingly, the whereabouts and safety of the worker are guaranteed. However, since only few of the women refugees who work as domestic workers got their jobs through the church and rabita, these measures do not guarantee the safety and security for the majority of women refugees. Some community leaders are also involved in enlightening people, especially parents,
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husbands, and relatives of domestic workers, to know where their daughters or wives or female relatives work. For example, parents and relatives are encouraged to accompany their daughters and wives to the place of work during their first day of work, and to meet the employing family and learn their address to guarantee safety and security. One can argue that while it is true that domestic slave labor ceased to exist in Egypt in the late nineteenth century, domestic work performed by southern Sudanese domestic workers in Egyptian families has emerged as a substitute. Despite the fact that some poor or low-income Egyptian women work as domestics—locally referred to as shaghala (singular) and shaghalat (plural)—their situation is much better than that of southern Sudanese domestic workers. This is particularly true in terms of the safety and legal protection the former enjoy. As explained in the introduction, in the 1980s and the early 1990s, the number of Sudanese in Egypt was small, and their economic conditions were better off than those who arrived in the late 1990s and the beginning of the 2000s. In the 1980s, for instance, most of the Sudanese students (especially male students) hired Egyptian Shaghalat to clean their apartments and prepare their meals. Similarly, during that period there was a considerable presence of foreigners, particularly employees of the multinational corporations and diplomats from the Western countries in Cairo. As a result, in the early 1990s few women refugees, who worked as domestic workers for foreigners and some wealthy Egyptians, were relatively better off in terms of treatment and wages. During that time also the live-out work was more common than mubeed. However, with the increasing number of women refugees seeking domestic work, and the diminishing number of foreigners in Cairo, the conditions of the domestic workers worsened, as they tended to get jobs in Egyptian families, whose financial conditions determined how much a domestic worker is paid and maintained. Similarly, mubeed have become more prevalent than the live-out workers, a situation which has jeopardized the well being of the women, their children, and their relationship with their husbands as well. Southern Sudanese Women Refugees as Targets of Sexual Harassment Besides the mistreatment and name calling they experience as domestic workers, southern Sudanese women refugees further experience sexual harassment in the streets of Cairo. The term sexual harassment here refers to attitudes and kinds of behavior (physical or verbal) that express sexual objectification and sexual contempt directed not only by the host
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population toward southern Sudanese women refugees on the streets of Cairo, but also by Western and other foreign nationals in Cairo toward these women, particularly in night clubs and in their private residents. This sexual harassment is shaped partly by the historical memory of the enslavement of southern Sudanese women in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, as well as by the cultural and gender ideologies prevalent within contemporary Egyptian society. In an attempt to analyze the experiences of women refugees in relation to sexual harassment, the following questions could be asked: Why are southern Sudanese women refugees the targets of sexual harassment? How are some of the women refugees implicated in the process of sexual harassment? How are the women who are engaged in prostitution, for example, implicated in the process? What are some of the forms of sexual harassment experienced by southern Sudanese women refugees? Who, among the host population, are likely to make sexual remarks? And what is the ultimate implication of this sexual harassment for the lives of those southern Sudanese women refugees who are not engaged in providing sexual services for money? In answering these questions, the experiences of these women will not be analyzed in isolation. Rather, the analysis will be situated within the context of the cultural, religious, and gender ideologies of the host population toward a woman’s place within its society, with an emphasis on women’s clothing and the message it conveys. Issues of cultural differences, poverty, and economic pressures experienced by refugees, and how such circumstances have pushed some women refugees into prostitution to sustain their lives will also be addressed. Like many Middle Eastern societies, women’s dress in Egypt represents in part an important marker, of modesty, class, gender, and religious ideologies. Literature on veiling and on women’s dress in general in the Middle East has shown that historically, veiling and seclusion have been associated with upper class women, particularly in urban areas, whereas lower class women, especially in rural areas, have to work to contribute to the family income.56 However, due to the changing social and economic situation in Egypt, and in Cairo specifically, many lower middle class and lower class Egyptian women have taken up the veil or hijab as an option when leaving home for school or work. As a result, in present-day Cairo, an overwhelming majority of Egyptian working Muslim women wears the hijab. Different interpretations are attributed to the meaning and the purpose of wearing the veil. They include cultural and religious understandings, encompassing sexuality, family honor, socially accepted behavior, gender ideologies, and religious beliefs. In their study of the peoples and cultures of the Middle East, Daniel G. Bates and Amal Rassam noted the different
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interpretations of the veil by Middle Eastern people. According to these authors: For some Middle Easterners, the veil, represents an elaboration and perpetuation of an archaic patriarchal order, an embarrassing relic of the past, and an impediment to development. For others, it symbolizes a core of an Islamic ethos regarding sexual modesty and morality. For still others, veiling is an explicit political statement, even an expediency with which to reaffirm pride of culture in the face of the assault of the west.57
Similarly, in her analysis of veiling among lower middle class Egyptian women in Cairo, Arlene E. Macleod identifies several points relating to veiling, women’s roles, and the meaning attached to wearing the veil. Veiling, according to her, “has been associated with sexual beliefs and with standards of appropriate behavior, yet also with evaluations of social status and with political concerns.” Similarly, the veil is “linked to the concept of honor which frames moral relations.” It also “functions as a form of communication between wearer and viewer.” In traditional, as well as in contemporary Egyptian society, “veiling focused on the female body because of its position as the central link in a familial system of honor, shame, and reputation.”58 Following from the above interpretations of the veil, one can argue that although women might have different reasons for wearing the veil, its symbolizing of sexual modesty and morality, and its link to the system of honor, shame, and reputation as explained by Macleod above, are central to why women wear the veil. Gender ideology in Egyptian society also influences Egyptians’ perceptions of southern Sudanese women refugees. In other words, how gender is constructed in Egyptian society shapes Egyptians’ responses and reactions toward women refugees from southern Sudan. Many Egyptians believe that women and men have different natures. Within this conceptualization, women are, according to Arlene Macleod, “cast in two main roles, inside and outside the family”: that is, as wife and mother, and central to the family; and “a potential danger outside the boundaries of family life, as the ‘temptress’ and ‘seductress.’ In general, women are perceived as having a very strong sexual nature, which must be controlled if society is to maintain order.”59 As a result, and to maintain order, society has developed different strategies, customs, and rules. Thus, the veil and seclusion represent two of the contemporary means of maintaining order. Given such an understanding of female dress and the gender constructs, it has become clear that women’s dress in Cairo, for instance, partly determines the manner in which people, and in particular men, view and respond to women in the street and other public spaces. As a measure of
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moral judgment, religious belief, and acceptable behavior, the central function of the veil is to cover certain parts of the female body, which should remain hidden from the view of men who are not close relatives. In Islam, and in many Middle Eastern societies and cultures, for example, it is haram or forbidden for a woman to reveal her head, hair, arms, and legs in public, where she can be exposed to the gaze of unrelated men. As a result, any style of dress, which is contrary to what is acceptable in Cairo is seen as a transgression, and thus invites different reactions and responses from viewers. These responses or reactions are what I refer to here as sexual harassment. As I indicated earlier, southern Sudanese women refugees are racially, culturally, and religiously different from the majority of Egyptian women who are Muslims. These differences are reflected partly in the way in which they dress and how they style their hair. For example, it is common for many southern Sudanese women, both in urban areas of Sudan and in exile, to wear respectable Western-style outfits such as skirts, shirts, and blouses (similar to some Egyptian women, mainly Christians). Some of these women also tend increasingly to braid their hair. Southern Sudanese women tend increasingly to adopt an African mode of dress that is commonly worn by women in other Sub-Saharan African countries, due to Sudan’s government policies of Islamization and Arabization in Sudan, as well as in reaction to the racial, ethnic, and religious discrimination experienced in exile. The purpose of wearing African dress is partly to assert as a political statement an “African” identity as opposed to an “Arab” identity, particularly in the context of Sudan. It is also another form of style and fashion. On the other hand, as a result of the “cultural shock” experienced by recent young female immigrants from Sudan to Cairo, as well as their exposure to new and different lifestyles and fashion, some of these newcomers prefer to dress in Western-style fashionable outfits, which are contrary to the modest or commonly “acceptable” dress code in the host society. Some of these outfits are not even accepted by older generation or conservative southern Sudanese. These outfits are characterized, for example, by sleeveless dresses and blouses, short and tight skirts, or tight pants. Some of these women refugees as well as those who have been in Cairo earlier bleach their skin with skin-lighting creams, imported mainly from Kenya and Uganda, without considering the health risks involved. Thus, the ways in which some southern Sudanese women refugees dress and style their hair have placed them in a vulnerable position to become targets of sexual harassment in Cairo. As one participant put it, “[t]hese girls who braid their hair long, bleach their skin to look white, and wear short and sleeveless dresses have damaged the reputation of southern Sudanese women in Cairo.”60
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Besides their violation of the “acceptable” dress code for women in the host society, poverty and economic pressure further contributed to the vulnerability of southern Sudanese women refugees. As I noted in chapter 6, the economic conditions have pushed many to engage in a variety of money-raising activities in order to support themselves and their families. Although the majority of southern Sudanese women refugees work as domestic workers, or carry out other income-earning activities such as basket making, knitting and so on, some women who find it difficult to do domestic work, for example, resort to prostitution to earn income. It is important to note that engaging in prostitution in Cairo did not start with the recent influx of Sudanese immigrants. Rather, it was reported that some Sudanese women refugees have been involved in prostitution since the early 1990s. The women engaged in prostitution were often unmarried, widowed, or divorced, but include single mothers and women with husbands. Since most of the women who practiced prostitution lived in some lower income sections of El-Maadi residential area in Cairo, they were collectively referred to as the Maadi group or Niswan El Maadi, that is, the Maadi women by the southern Sudanese refugee community in Cairo. There were also some foreigners and some wealthy Egyptians who live in the affluent sections of El Maadi.61 The term Niswan El Maadi was coined approximately in the early 1990s. These women mainly go to night clubs every night to look for potential customers (mainly Western foreign nationals) who can pay enough cash for their sexual services, and sleep during the day. Through this process some women were able to secure for themselves men who were able to rent for them relatively large and comfortable apartments compared to the living quarters of other refugees. Although these men occasionally travel, while in Egypt, they live with these women as partners. From the early to mid1990s the majority of these men was Western nationals, who either work in multinational corporations or diplomatic missions in Egypt or who are in Egypt as tourists. Because of their connections to these mainly white men, some of these women were able to sponsor their relatives from Sudan to live in Cairo, where they rent for these people their own apartments. Since most of these women take taxis as a fast means to and from the night clubs, they become well known to many of the taxi drivers, some of whom are security men, particularly those in the El Maadi area. Despite the fact that these women refugees (i.e., the Maadi women) earn relatively more money from what they do, and live comfortable lives as compared to other southern Sudanese women refugees, their relationships with these mostly white men were not free from sexual oppression and exploitation. It was believed that these women because of their economic needs and status as refugees, were subjected to humiliating and exploitative sexual practices.
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For instance, many of those women who go to night clubs were sometimes subjected to unacceptable sexual advances, such as touching of breasts, buttocks, or kissing in public (i.e., in the club) by these men.62 In the late 1990s, several tourist sites were targeted for attack by terrorists. As the flow of tourists slowed, and as the economic situation in Egypt worsened, due partly to such incidents, the number of white men able to keep El Maadi woman diminished. This situation in turn pushed many of these women refugees into providing sexual services to Egyptians, a practice that was not in existence before. As a result of the worsening conditions, southern Sudanese women refugees, in general, and those who are engaged in prostitution, in particular, have become more vulnerable to all sorts of sexual harassment. This situation has further damaged the reputation of southern Sudanese women refugees among the host population. Throughout my interviews, many participants narrated how they or other women refugees they know are targeted and harassed by Egyptian men in the streets of Cairo. Analyzing participants’ narratives, four kinds of sexual harassment have been identified: uttering sexual remarks; gazing at and following women refugees in the street; intentionally touching and grabbing women’s buttocks and breasts; and displaying cash to entice women for sex. Those who commit these forms of sexual harassment include taxi drivers, bystanders, and passersby, some walking, some driving. Most of the encounters between women refugees and Egyptian men, however, occur inside a taxi. In Cairo, it is common for taxi drivers, for example, to initiate a discussion with his passenger, especially if the passenger is a woman and black. Most of the questions asked by these taxi drivers usually revolve around issues of marriage and sexual relations. For example, the most commonly asked questions are: “Are you from Sudan? Are you from the south or the north? Are you married or not? Do you have children?” In my inquiry into why southern Sudanese women refugees are targets of sexual harassment in the streets of Cairo, different interpretations were given by the participants. Responses to issues of sexual harassment toward southern Sudanese women refugees varied depending on the gender, age, length of time spent in Cairo, and experiences of individual participants. Recounting her encounter with a taxi driver, Rasha noted that One day I took a taxi with my daughter. Then the driver asked me, “ite mutaghawiza” [i.e., are you married]? I said yes, and I told him that if I am not married then, where will I get my daughter? Then he said, “[i]n the Sudan, it is said that a woman can have sex with any man, even if she is not married.” I said that is not true. After a lengthy discussion, he then said, “[y]oung Egyptian men like me are interested in having sex with samara, especially those from the Sudan.” I asked why, he said, “[b]ecause the way
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black women or samara perform sex is different from, and better than that of Egyptian women.” Such an encounter happened to me twice with taxi drivers.63
According to my informants, it can be argued that such encounters occur almost on a daily basis, as many refugees increasingly tend to take taxis as the fastest way to arrive at their destinations. On the basis of such experiences, southern Sudanese conclude that there is a general belief among many Egyptian men, which is partly shaped by the historical realities of Egyptians having in the past subjected southern Sudanese women to slavery and the institution of concubine, that black women are “loose,” “hot,” and suitable sexual partners. This belief is further reinforced by the fact that there are some southern Sudanese women refugees who are engaged in prostitution at the time of the research. Therefore, in Cairo today, it is common for a southern Sudanese woman to hear such sexual remarks as, “al samara be defi or al samara sukhna (i.e., a black woman warms a man during sex or a black woman is hot), whether by taxi drivers or by Egyptian men passing by. What makes such encounters particularly worse and painful in my view is the fact that the refugee community understands the language of the host that is Arabic. Incidents of Egyptian men following southern Sudanese women refugees in the street and making sexual remarks were also recurrent themes during my interviews. Because of the view perceived to be held by the majority of Egyptians that southern Sudanese women are “loose” or are engaged in prostitution, these women refugees, regardless of who they are, how they are dressed or style their hair, whether they are young or old, have become victims of daily and unacceptable sexual encounters. Walking in the streets of Cairo, or taking the public transportation, a southern Sudanese woman refugee cannot escape some Egyptian men’s gaze, sexual remarks, or inappropriate touches. This is how Rasha narrated her experience with an Egyptian man in the street: One day on my way home I realized that someone was following me. He walked quickly, and passed me, and then he went and stopped ahead of me. I thought he was watching a football [soccer] match aired on a television outside a shop along the street . . . I continued walking and passed him. When I looked back I saw the same Egyptian man still following me. He came and passed by me and he was saying bad things. Again he stopped ahead of me and was talking to me, saying come, come. So what I did I went toward him, grabbed him on his neck and told him, “let us do it here.” Then there was an elderly Egyptian man who witnessed the encounter who apologized to me and told the man to be ashamed of himself for not respecting a woman.64
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Similar encounters were and are experienced by many southern Sudanese women refugees, particularly those who live in El-Maadi residential area. I myself was subjected to similar encounters both during the years of my stay in Cairo and during the time of my fieldwork. Drawing on the above evidence, one can argue that southern Sudanese women refugees are in a daily struggle either to avoid sexual harassment or to deal with Egyptian men who harass them. Whether in the street or on the bus or in the Metro, a southern Sudanese woman refugee is always on a high state of alert. She has to be extra cautious as to who is sitting next to her or behind her seat to guard against inappropriate touching and grabbing. She also has to be cautious of who is following her in the street. Therefore, to avoid such a situation, especially in the Metro, where it can be so crowded during rush hour, many southern Sudanese women refugees prefer to ride in the first two front cars, which are reserved for harem only. When I was in Cairo conducting my interviews I took the Metro every day. To reach my participants I always went to these cars reserved for women or harem only. Such incidents of sexual harassment experienced by southern Sudanese women refugees might constitute reportable cases to the authorities, especially in the context of North America, where sexual harassment cases are punishable by law. However, in the context of Egyptian society where the gender construct depicts a woman as “temptress” or “seductress,” especially in public spaces, it is difficult to report such cases.65 Similarly, given their refugee status, southern Sudanese women refugees find it difficult to report such incidents, because doing so is likely to invite more trouble and humiliation, given the host society’s cultural and gender ideologies, as well as its negative perception of them. Further, and as a result of the general prevailing beliefs about a woman’s place and proper behavior, women refugees who experience sexual harassment will not be seen as victims. Rather, they will always be viewed as the ones who invited such encounters upon themselves. Many different interpretations were provided in response to why women refugees from the south have become targets of sexual harassment in the first place. Those participants who have been in Cairo since the early 1990s compared the situation of Sudanese refugees in the past and the present. Although some participants acknowledged the fact that historical realities between Egyptians and Sudanese, as well as Egyptian’s perceptions of southern Sudanese women in particular, are indeed factors in the occurrence of sexual harassment, they also noted that women refugees are not only victims of such encounters, but also contribute themselves to the increase in incidents related to sexual harassment, partly because some women are in fact prostitutes. Similarly, the increasing numbers of
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Sudanese in Cairo have also been given as a contributing factor in the increase of such incidents. I interviewed the representative of the political wing of the SPLM/A office in Cairo. He has been in Egypt since the early 1990s and stated: Such things [i.e., sexual harassment] just do not happen in a vacuum. Like in the past while we were still students, there was no such kind of things. However, due to the high influx of people from Sudan, women refugees are harassed frequently. For example, in the mid-1990s, the “bad women” used to go to disco clubs. At that time, these women went to hunt for white men. But currently there are not many white men around. As a result, it reached an extent that these women are going with Egyptians. So some Egyptian men have this habit that when he has a black woman in his apartment, he will phone his friends to come over. One day it happened that about 20 Egyptian men had sex with one woman in one day. This woman was later taken to the hospital. So if the numbers of people who go with Egyptian men increase, such incidents also increase and the Egyptians do not differentiate between women who practice prostitution and those who do not. They just see them the same.
On the contrary, some participants argued that those women who choose to engage in prostitution should not be branded as “bad women” just because they are offering sexual services for money. Instead, people should look into why these women got involved in what they are doing in the first place. According to Zuzu, Women who practise prostitution do not do it because they like it, but because of the conditions they live in. There are several factors that led them to become prostitutes. One of these factors is the condition that pushed them out of Sudan to Cairo. And in reality, Oshin work is not easy it is hard. Now if I can find someone to provide for my needs, I will accept it and will not work as a domestic worker. So some women will prefer to sell sex than do Oshin work. These women usually do not see themselves as corrupt or “bad women.” On the contrary, they always explain their situation in terms of the hardship of life in exile.66
According to the above narratives and interpretations, one can conclude that many factors, ranging from the historical realities of slavery to the cultural differences and the social and economic circumstances that face refugees in Cairo today, contribute to the fact that southern Sudanese women refugees experience sexual harassment daily. On the one hand, for those women refugees who are not engaged in prostitution, they have to deal daily with harassment encounters with taxi drivers, male passersby on the streets and on public transport. On the other hand, for those women
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refugees who are engaged in providing sexual services for men, whether whites or Egyptians, they further have to deal with both the physical and emotional toll this takes on them, as well as with the daily encounters in the streets. Since some of these women have to secure customers mainly in night clubs, they have to sacrifice their sleep for the sake of earning some income for the support of their families. For those women with children, these children are also affected as they are usually left alone or under the care of grown up sisters or relatives. Similarly, since most of women refugees who practice prostitution are known to the taxi drives, some of whom are security agents themselves, these women have become targets of police round-ups and detention.
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CONCLUSION
his book, which is based on my doctoral dissertation completed in 2004, set out to examine the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in exile, by exploring the social, cultural, economic, and political transformations that have affected their lives. In the following pages, I summarize the findings of my study and suggest further areas of research. In examining their situation, the study identifies the new roles, skills, knowledge, and perceptions the women have acquired, and shows how these women use their newly acquired skills and knowledge— their lived experiences, their work as domestic workers, and their involvement in organizational, leadership, and political activities—to reevaluate their past and challenge the representation of African women refugees solely as undifferentiated victims and dependents in the refugee and forced migration literature. The tendency in much of the literature to treat refugees as a homogeneous category erases the differences in experience between and among refugees. Their characterization solely as victims and dependents further ignores women refugees’ efforts to alleviate some of their problems before the arrival of foreign relief, and it ignores their agency and achievements. A conceptual framework of the interlocking and the intersecting systems of oppression articulated by African feminists, black feminists, and antiracism theorists is used in order to capture the complexities of the everyday experiences of women refugees. African feminism and black feminist thought, which invoke the power of African women, help in challenging the unifying nature of the category “refugee,” as well as the victimized and dependent image of an African woman refugee. In addition, an integrative antiracism theory, used as an alternative framework, explores the issues of racism and ethnicity and how they play out in the refugee/host relationship. Using these frameworks have shown that although refugees are subjected to similar conditions, their responses to the refugee circumstances vary according to their age, class, ethnic and regional background, social status, education, and other forms of social difference.
T
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Given the difficulty in adequately analyzing all intersections simultaneously, the book emphasizes gender and gender relations within the context of refugees. The introduction of gender in refugee and forced migration studies has allowed for the treatment of women refugees as individuals and independent people, rather than as dependents only. This study has used gender in its relational terms by focusing on both male and female refugees and how the relationships between the two are played out in exile. Gender is also analyzed in intersection with class, race, ethnicity, region, age, and other differences because refugees and refugee conditions are not only gendered, but are also classed, racialized, and ethnicized as well. This book discusses the sociocultural features of southern Sudanese society from which the women come, the different positions of women and men in Sudan, Sudanese gender relations, and the gendered division of labor, and cultural practices and laws governing southern Sudanese society. Analyzing these aspects sets the basis for tracing changes and transformations among, and between, refugees, as well as to understand the responses of women and men to changing circumstances in Cairo. My findings suggest that life in exile has both negative and positive consequences on refugee lives. Due to war and displacement, the social and cultural traditions of those affected are disrupted, leading to changes in behavior, perceptions, and lifestyles. For example, economic difficulties experienced by refugees in Cairo have forced refugees to engage in practices and activities that have negative consequences on their lives and families. For example, women’s work as domestic workers has partly affected the well being of children and the women’s relationships with their husbands. As women spend most of their time working outside the home, either during the day or as mubeed, many children are either left with their fathers or left to fend for themselves with no parental guidance. Women working as mubeed spent their weekdays in their employers’ homes, a situation that has contributed to conflict between husband and wife. Similarly, some women refugees resort to prostitution to support themselves and their families. This in turn has devastating consequences on the relationship between women refugees and the host population, as the latter tend to perceive the former as “loose” women, and thus they become targets of sexual harassment in the streets of Cairo and other public spaces. The high influx of refugees from Sudan has led to an increase in demand for housing which in turn has led to increases in rent. As a result, many refugees are forced to live in overcrowded apartment buildings in the poorest neighborhoods of Cairo. In addition, the increasing number of refugees has strained the relations between refugees and the host people, as the latter blame the former for the increase in rent, food, and other social services.
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My findings further show that lack of educational opportunities, overcrowding in a small apartments and/or classrooms, lack of parental control, and exposure to a different social environment have negatively impacted the behavior of youth and children in Cairo. For example, young people have learned behaviors, such as alcohol drinking, drug use, lack of self-respect and respect for older people, behaviors that southern Sudanese society regards as socially and culturally unacceptable. Although different church groups in Cairo have opened up schools for refugee children, the increasing numbers of school-age children, the nonofficial status of these schools, and the requirements to sit in for the final examinations in Egyptian public schools, which are necessary for obtaining an official school certificate, limit the opportunities of refugee children to pursue further education. The increasing number of refugees in Cairo, coupled with the financial difficulties facing them, have led many refugees to resort to the church as an alternative way to alleviate both their material and spiritual needs. For example, many refugees who had come from Sudan as non-Christians became Christians in Cairo by being baptized and confirmed in the church. This is evident in the steady increase in the numbers of those who have been baptized between 1990 and 2001, and in the emergence of allSudanese Sunday church services. In addition, the kind of material assistance and the spiritual support offered by the churches determine refugees’ patterns of church attendance and their choices of churches to go to. Besides displacement and economic pressure, the resettlement program designed for refugees has accelerated the process of altering or questioning some of the traditional institutions and cultural practices that had once shaped the lives of refugees. This is because the understanding of culture and tradition is not static or frozen in time and space. Rather, it changes over time. The most affected of these are the pattern and meaning of marriage and the unity of the family institution. In the past, marriage was associated with joining two families or clans for a peaceful coexistence, and with achieving high status through procreation. In Cairo, marriage has become more associated with material gain, personal interest, and the possibility of getting out of Cairo. Consequently, idafa emerged as a fasttrack option of conducting a marriage and of migrating to a third country, resulting in an increase in the number of marriages among refugees in Cairo. Furthermore, family background and the family’s social position in the society as measures of marital acceptance have lost their significance as women marry across ethnic and racial lines. In the past, marriage certification and legal registration were not valued, especially in rural areas, but they have gained in importance because applying for resettlement requires these official documents as proof that the applicants are really married.
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Given the fact that many refugees were rejected by the UNHCR, coupled with the economic problems facing refugees, many male refugees have abandoned their wives and children with an aim to be included in another woman’s file, who is already recognized as a refugee by the UNHCR. Others resort to drinking to overcome their problems. Similarly, polygamous families are threatened as polygamists are faced with the challenge of how to pursue resettlement in countries such as the United States and Canada, whose laws do not allow for the practice of polygamy. This situation has forced some polygamists into secrecy and/or abandonment of their first wives and children. In other words, the ways in which refugees pursue resettlement have led to an increase in separation and divorce. In the process, people’s feelings and emotions are hurt and the well being of children is threatened. Although displacement and life in exile disrupt the normal life of those affected, life in exile can also be of benefit to refugees. My interviews with southern Sudanese refugees indicate that life in Cairo has allowed women to reevaluate their perceptions, which in turn necessitated a shift in gender roles, whereby women have adopted new social and economic roles contrary to those that existed in Sudan. As indicated above, financial difficulties, as well as lack of job opportunities for men, have allowed women to work as domestics or to carry out income-generating activities to support their families. As breadwinners and economically independent, women begin to assert greater involvement in decision making, particularly on financial issues, an area that had been the sole domain of men in the past. Based on the findings, one can argue that women’s work as domestic workers and their managing of familial responsibilities—once considered as belonging to men—challenge both the dependent image of a woman refugee and the long-held belief among southern Sudanese that women are always dependent on men economically. Their work has also rendered irrelevant the culturally rooted claim that men are the providers and decision makers, whereas women are dependent on men. Women’s involvement in economic, organizational, and political activities represents another challenge to the public-private distinction, rendering it insignificant, especially in exile. It also discounts the belief that politics and leadership roles in public affairs are only for men as understood in southern Sudan. While living in exile, women have been exposed to different cultures and to different social environments that have allowed them to become more aware of global and regional events and issues affecting women in general, through their involvement in organizational or political work, participation in meetings, workshops, seminars, and conferences, and through their pursuit of educational and career-oriented opportunities. For example, women noted the benefits of their involvement in organizational
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and political work. Their participation has allowed them to acquire new skills and knowledge and has influenced their perceptions about the political situation in Sudan and about issues of marginality and the commonality of experiences, particularly among the marginalized and oppressed people of Sudan. Through discussing these issues and coming into contact with Sudanese from other parts of Sudan, many southern Sudanese have realized that they are not the only people in the country who are oppressed and marginalized; as well, although women are differently located, there are also commonalities among them. In addition, women started to examine and assess previous activities, existing Sudanese laws and cultural practices, and addressed the importance of women’s involvement in politics as part of a process of seeking effective ways to improve women’s conditions and make their voices heard. The work of rabita and nawsa is a case in point. Participants further noted how some cultural practices, perceptions about women’s place in the society, and the exile conditions facing refugees have negatively affected women’s active participation in either politics or other public affairs activities. Some of the identified aspects include socialization of southern Sudanese women, gendered division of labor, lack of education for women, economic difficulties and security concerns in Cairo, and differences among women. In their view, these aspects have influenced women’s decisions and choices to participate or not to participate in either politics or organizational work. In the process of challenging the past, women refugees draw on specific cultural attitudes and practices that they see as discriminatory and oppressive to women, given their new experience of war, displacement, and exile. For example, participants were ambivalent about the practice of polygamy, which they view as a contributing factor in domestic violence and in division among women. They were also ambivalent about men’s attitudes toward the gender role reversal and women’s participation in politics or group work. Changes and transformations among refugees are received with mixed feelings by both male and female refugees. For example, the shift in gender roles is not free of trauma as it conflicts with refugees’ cultural and traditional practices. Similarly, responses to gender role reversal vary from one participant to another, depending on their social locations in Cairo. Many women participants view the shift in gender roles as good because it encourages them to recognize and value their contribution to the family. It has also necessitated change in some men’s attitudes, as they perceive women’s capabilities outside of the traditional family role. Although participants praise the benefits of being in exile and the gains resulting from gender role reversals, my findings further show that the
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negative effects of the shift outweigh the positive ones, particularly with regard children’s well being and the husband-wife relationship. As role reversal has led to the reconstitution of power relations between men and women in the family, men feel that their masculinity and authority over women are being challenged. Some men who found it difficult to come to terms with such changes, or to assume familial roles, which are considered to be women’s work, have resorted to drinking and even abandoning their children and wives. On the other hand, those men who chose to take up familial roles did not fully overcome the culturally rooted belief that household work is solely done by women. This was evident in the selective way in which they performed their newly acquired familial roles. On the other hand, in an effort to reinstate their dominance and control over women, some men have developed strategies such as making frequent demands for sexual services from their wives, leaving the apartment immediately when the wife returns from work, developing a resentful attitude toward their wives, and asserting their headship of the family by ignoring the woman’s contributions to the family budget and by dismissing the woman’s point of view. Such attitudes in turn have made some women refugees who work as domestic workers unhappy, as they feel that they are struggling for the well being of the family and children, while the man is unsupportive. Nonetheless, women use their status as breadwinners and as the main or principal applicants for refugee status at the UNHCR to challenge men’s authority, assert their voice, and to press for greater involvement in decision making regarding family issues. Women’s involvement in political, organizational, and leadership roles is not fully accepted by all refugees as a positive step. Influenced by the traditional belief that a woman’s place is in the home, men tend to see women who are involved in such activities as lazy and/or irresponsible and who do not value their prescribed role of home management and child care. Thus, any misconduct by the children is usually blamed on the mothers’ absence from home rather than the father. Similarly, some men feel unhappy or threatened about women who speak out and/or venture into the public domain. Given such an attitude, being a woman who is a leader, career oriented, or politically active is regarded as a transgression from culturally accepted behavior. Such a woman is usually viewed by many as a trouble maker or a revolutionary. In addition, some male and female refugees have negative attitudes toward women who are economically independent and are managing their family affairs. These women are sometimes branded as stubborn and disrespectful to their husbands. However, my findings show that despite the challenges and criticism faced by women refugees, those who choose to participate in public or organizational activities did not give up. Instead they continued to struggle for
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women’s rights and for an improvement of their situation, and to make their voices heard. Furthermore, faced with the changing situation in Cairo, refugees, both female and male, have noted the need to balance cultural practices with the demands of city life in exile, to ease the tensions arising from gender role reversal and women’s participation in public affairs. Some emphasized the need for men to educate themselves and to change their perceptions about women’s rights and a woman’s place both in the family and in the society. They acknowledge that women’s demands for their rights as individuals should not be translated as a threat or opposition to men. Rather it should be seen as a strategy for making their voices heard and for having their contributions and achievements recognized and appreciated. In addressing the refugee-host relationships, my study findings indicate that race, gender, class, ethnicity, and religion interact to influence the outcome of such relationships. In other words, these factors shape Egyptians’ attitudes toward refugees, in general, and refugees from Sudan and from other African countries, in particular. Such attitudes are evident in the host populations’ varying treatment of refugees from Palestine, Somalia, as well as from northern and southern Sudan. Many refugees I interviewed noted the fact that the daily harassment and name calling, which revolves around skin color, or blackness, directed at southern Sudanese refugees are racially and ethnically motivated. Social structures and class relations in Egypt further influence and are reflected in the relationship between refugees and the host population. Given the strong sense of one’s position in the social and economic hierarchy among Egyptians and because of their status, economic situation, and the kind of work they do, southern Sudanese find themselves below all class division in Cairo, making them the target of exploitation, discrimination, and mistreatment. Similarly, because of their status and economic conditions, southern Sudanese refugees have lost the respect of the host population, as they are increasingly viewed as alcoholics and a danger to the social order and the national security of the country. To overcome the emotional and physical pressures resulting from their relationships with the Egyptians, refugees both individually and collectively have developed strategies such as ignoring insults directed at them and declining to fight or talk back to avoid trouble. Analyzing the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees as domestic workers relative to the institutions of “domestic slavery” that existed in Egypt in the nineteenth century, my study indicates that there is a correlation between the two, particularly in terms of the kind of work done, the time spent doing it, and the treatment of domestics by their female Egyptian employers. Many domestic workers I interviewed noted how demanding and controlling their female Egyptian employers are, as well as the
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exploitative and humiliating working conditions they are subjected to. Domestic workers also experience verbal and physical abuse. Name calling is common within the families in which these women work. Such exploitative and unfavorable working conditions can also be attributed partly to the fact that international or Egyptian labor laws are not applied in the process of employing southern Sudanese women refugee domestic workers. Moreover, issues of ethnicity and religion are also played out in the process of employing a domestic, as many employers want to know the ethnic and religious background of those looking for a job. Given the experiences of domestic workers that are characterized by harsh working conditions and lack of safety guarantees, some churches, community, and women’s organizations have taken measures to ensure the relative safety of these women: securing jobs for domestic workers and having access to the name, address, and telephone number of the employing family. However, although these measures guarantee relative safety for those women who have got their jobs through these channels, they do not ensure the safety of the many women refugees who had obtained their jobs through other channels. Analyzing sexual harassment experienced by southern Sudanese women refugees within the context of the cultural, religious, and gender ideologies of the host society has shown that social, racial, ethnic, and religious factors also play a role in influencing the host’s responses to women refugees. For example, the manner in which people and, in particular, men, respond to women refugees in the street and other public spaces is partly determined by the way in which a woman dresses and styles her hair. Depending on the host’s religious or moral beliefs and standard of “accepted” behavior, women who dress “provocatively” may be the targets of sexual harassment. Race, ethnicity, and the history of slavery that existed between Egypt and Sudan have further influenced Egyptians’ responses and attitudes toward southern Sudanese women refugees. Verbal sexual remarks, gazing and following women refugees in the street, intentionally touching and grabbing of women’s buttocks and breasts, and displaying cash to entice them for sex were among the kinds of sexual harassment identified by the participants. Responses to the issue of sexual harassment vary from one participant to another depending on their gender and length of stay in Cairo. It was acknowledged that cultural differences, the historical memory of domestic slavery, gender ideologies, and economic circumstance have partly contributed to sexual harassment experienced by women. However, some participants who have been in Egypt for a long time (early arrivals) attribute the increasing incidence of sexual harassment to the increasing number of refugees, and the involvement of some women in prostitution, that is,
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providing sexual services to both Western foreign nationals and Egyptian men. Other participants, particularly women, argue that women who choose to engage in prostitution should not be branded as “bad women.” Rather, people should look at the reason why these women got involved in what they are doing. Some studies have shown that refugees are not passive actors but active participants in the specialized regime pertaining to the refugee crisis.1 Such an active participation of refugees is reflected in the varied channels that Sudanese refugees use either to get resettled in a third country or to survive in Cairo. For example, as the UNHCR Cairo office has emphasized, the provision of official documents as proof of marriage for those pursing resettlement, refugees were able to use this to their advantage by obtaining such documents either through the church or community organizations to support their case. As a result, there were increasing numbers of marriages through idafa, an increase triggered partly by the resettlement program. Similarly, many refugees who approached the UNHCR or appealed their case used the services provided by the musa’adin program to improve their chances of being recognized as refugees. Women refugees were also able to use the services provided by some Egyptian lawyers for their benefit. By seeking their services, some women refugees whose husbands were left in Sudan or whose whereabouts are unknown were able to process divorce papers, remarry, and continue the resettlement process. At the level of refugee-host population relationships, refugees were able to develop coping strategies for how to deal with Egyptian landlords/ladies. For example, to avoid straining their relationship with the landlords/ladies due to overcrowding, refugees usually do not reveal the actual number of people who will occupy the apartment at the time the aghid (contract) or verbal agreement is completed. Another strategy was for extra occupants to leave the apartment at the time the landlord/lady collected rent. Refugees who have no resident permit stamped on their UNHCR ID resorted to either renewing their Sudanese passports or obtaining a new one from the Sudanese embassy to allow them to stay legally in the country in order to avoid trouble with Egyptian authorities. Although my study intended to examine the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees, it stopped short of capturing all aspects of those under study. Given the time frame and the way in which the study was conceptualized, I am unable to address some important issues, which I later realized should have be analyzed. As a result, further research is needed. For example, the relationship between southern Sudanese women refugees working as domestic workers and their female Egyptian employers needs further investigation from the perspective of the employer. Exploring the differences and similarities between the relationships of those northern
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Sudanese and their Egyptian shagalat, and the female Egyptian employers and their southern Sudanese domestics should be imperative in such a study. Interviewing female northern Sudanese employers is also important to learn if they have attempted to employ domestic workers from among the Sudanese refugees or not, or why they prefer to employ Egyptian domestic workers. Also, a review of Egyptian personal laws and interviewing Egyptian lawyers who offer legal services to refugee women who are mostly Christians will be necessary in uncovering the nature of their work and the kinds of laws they draw on in handling the divorce cases of these women. The experiences of southern Sudanese women refugees who provide sexual services for both white and Egyptian men also need further analysis. Assuming that the power relations between these women and the men they involved with were never equal, it is necessary to explore how these women negotiated their relations with regard to, for example, the payment for and the frequency of the sexual services they provided. Moreover, what was the kind of relationship that existed between these women and these men, what were the strategies used by these women to attract their customers, and what racial and ethnic stereotypes these men draw on to sexually objectify these women? Exploring these issues in my view will give more insights into the everyday experiences of these women. Furthermore, interviewing male refugees who work in Egyptian businessmen’s stores is important because it provides an understanding of the differences or similarities between their relationship with the Egyptian employers who are men and that of women refugee domestic workers with their female Egyptian employers. Also a comparative analysis of northern and southern Sudanese organizations established in Cairo is needed to uncover how differently or similarly these organizations operate. For example, what factors—economic, ethnic, religious, and organizational skills—affect their work and progress or lack of it? All in all, although women refugees have encountered economic difficulties and are constrained by the cultural practices that once shaped their lives, southern Sudanese women refugees are able to struggle both individually and collectively to overcome such obstacles and to create a relatively normal life for themselves and their families. Their struggle in turn has rendered their representation solely as victims and dependents in the literature on refugees and forced migration unacceptable. Furthermore, their work outside the home and their involvement in politics or organizational work provides insights into women’s power and resistance to southern Sudanese cultural practices that they view as constraining to their progress.
EPILOGUE THE COMPREHENSIVE PEACE AGREEMENT (CPA) AND THE DECISION TO RETURN
he SPLM/A and the government of NIF signed the CPA in January 2005. The CPA gives the people of southern Sudan the right to decide, by a referendum to be held after a six-year interim period, whether to remain in a united Sudan or become an independent state. It also stipulates that efforts be made during the interim period to make unity attractive to the south.1 The signing of the CPA brought some excitement among Sudanese, in general, and southern Sudanese, in particular. It also represents a turning point in the history of Sudan, in general, and to the civilian population, in particular. As someone who has experienced war and displacement, and have seen the destruction of innocent lives, schools, medical facilities, and sources of livelihood, I believe that the stoppage of the war came as a relief to the civilian population living in southern Sudan, to those southern Sudanese living in Khartoum’s IDP camps, and those who live in refugee camps in the neighboring countries. For those who live in Sudan, the end of the war would presumably allow people in southern Sudan in particular, after 21 years of suffering and instability, to rebuild their lives, communities, and institutions. It is also an opportunity for the younger generations to go to school and imagine their future in a positive way. For those who live abroad, the end of the war was seen as an opportunity to bring relief and peace of mind from fear of hearing bad news from home; it also allows them to reunite with their family members after many decades. However, Sudanese excitement and high hopes for a peaceful and prosperous future were unexpectedly crashed after the sudden death of Dr John Garange de Mabior, leader of SPLM/A in a plane crash on July 30, 2005, after he was sworn in as first vice president of Sudan, and president
T
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of the Government of Southern Sudan on July 9, 2005. Sadly, his death was followed by racist motivated riots in Khartoum and Juba as many of SPLM’s supporters blamed the NIF government for his death. As a result, many people were killed, others wounded, and people’s property was damaged. Following Dr Garange’s death, Salvar Kiir Mayerdit was appointed to replace him. Subsequently, on Thursday, September 25, 2005, the Sudanese new Government of National Unity (GONU) consisting of thirty members was formed. This was followed by the formation of an autonomous Government of Southern Sudan (GOSS) on Saturday, October 22, 2005. The Decision to Return: Sudanese Refugees in Cairo During the war period many Sudanese refugees in Cairo and other parts of the world were optimistic that when peace prevails in Sudan they would return home to rebuild their lives and communities. However, after the signing of the CPA, the death of Dr John Garang de Mabior, and after more than one year of the formation of the GONU and GOSS, many refugees are still reluctant to return to Sudan. Many factors can be attributed to their reluctance. First of all, since the signing of the peace agreement, many excluded political groups felt that the CPA is neither inclusive nor democratic. Second, the war in Darfur that started in 2003 still continues today has indeed weakened the prospect for peace. Like the people of southern Sudan, many people in Darfur are killed by the governmentbacked militia. In addition, women are raped and many others are forced to take refuge in IDP camps or refugee camps in neighboring Chad. Third, many armed groups in the south that were not part of the CPA are not yet absorbed either into the Sudan Armed Forces (SAF) or the SPLA as stipulated in the CPA. Furthermore, the Lord Resistant Army (LRA), a Ugandan rebel group fighting against the government of Uganda continues to operate from its bases in southern Sudan. The presence of these militia groups in the south, coupled with lack of infrastructure, and basic social services, as well as the continuity of war in Darfur, have forced many Sudanese refugees to rethink and reevaluate their decisions to return home. Given such situations, many Sudanese refugees, particularly those in the West and in other neighboring countries of Sudan, have decided to remain in exile hoping that the situation would be stabilized in the nearest future. The decision to stay in the country of refuge was not viewed favorably by the host population, as the refugees are usually blamed for increase in market prices, crimes, and other social and economic challenges facing the host country. This is particularly true of Sudanese refugees in Egypt, many
EPILOGUE
201
of whom remained there and continued to pursue their resettlement process with the UNHCR Cairo office. However, their decision to stay and pursue resettlement in a third country did not materialize. In 2004 the UNHCR suspended all interviews with Sudanese refugees on grounds that there was no longer war in Sudan. The UNHCR decision to stop processing refugee applications for refugee status has disappointed many Sudanese refugees who had placed their hopes on the resettlement program. In response to the UNHCR decision, the refugees on September 29, 2005, organized a sit-in protest at Mustafa Mahmud Square located in the relatively affluent Mohandisseen district on the west side of the River Nile, and where the UNHCR office is also located. The main purpose of the peaceful sit-in was to pressure the UNHCR to change its decision of suspending reviewing refugee cases. Despite attempts by the Egyptian government to persuade the refugees to disperse, the sit-in continued for 3 months. As a result, on Friday, December 30, 2005, the Egyptian authorities deployed thousands of Egyptian riot police who used water cannons and truncheons to disperse the peaceful protesters. In the process of dispersing them, twenty-six Sudanese refugees were killed, mainly southern Sudanese “including 17 men, two women and seven children.”2 Other refugees were wounded, and many others were detained. This brutal attack of unarmed refugees by the Egyptian riot police angered many Sudanese and other international and local human rights organizations and governments. Many Sudanese in the United States and Canada, for example, staged peaceful demonstrations protesting the killings and demanding an independent investigation into the killings. The attack further angered the newly formed GOSS and led to the closure of the Egyptian consulate in Juba for more than 3 months out of fear of southern Sudanese retaliation. However, despite the national and international demand for an investigation, no substantial steps were taken by the Egyptian government to address the issue. Instead, the Egyptian government blamed the violence on the unarmed refugees. According to Egypt’s Interior Ministry, “[t]he migrants’ leaders resorted to incitement and attacks against the [armed] police.”3 Similarly, the Sudanese minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Ali Ahmed Kerti, who was in Cairo when the incident occurred, blamed the refugees claiming that, some of the refugees “sought to escalate the situation with no regard to the consequences.”4 He went further to argue that the Egyptian government “was within its rights to re-establish its control.”5 Reflecting on the method in which the unarmed protesters were brutally dispersed by the Egyptian police, and the host government’s response to the incident, one can argue that the unfriendly relationship
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between Sudanese refugees and the host country has reached its highest peak ever. After the forceful dispersal of the protesters and despite calls by the GOSS for southern Sudanese refugees to return and rebuild their communities of origins, many Sudanese in Egypt are still reluctant to return. The few who decided to return left behind their families. The main purpose of their return was to assess the situation, and to determine whether it was deemed favorable for the family to relocate.6 Thus, on the one hand, as southern Sudanese refugees continue to live in Cairo, their social and economic situations will continue to deteriorate and worsen. On the other hand, their relations with the host population will further deteriorate as they come to view the host government as their enemy that used excessive force against them. At a similar footing, the host population will continue to view refugees as a burden and a problem to their economy and a threat and danger to their social order and national security.
APPENDIX 1 CONSENT FORM FOR RESEARCH PARTICIPATION (REFUGEES)
This form is to be fully completed by a woman and a man refugee who desire to participate in the research study that examines the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in exile. ——I have read and understand Jane Kani Edward’s letter of Date, of a proposed research project on southern Sudanese women refugees examining their situation as they experience life in exile. ——I understand that my participation in this research study is completely voluntary. ——I understand that the mandatory individual (one-hour) interview and the group discussions (two hours) interview, will both be tape recorded for the purposes of transcription and the writing of the final document. However, I may request that the tape recorder be turned off at any time during the interview until I indicate that it may be turned on again. ——I understand that both individual and group discussion interviews will be conducted in Arabic, English, or both. ——I understand that I will decide on a time and place for the interview. ——I understand that I am free not to answer any questions that I am not comfortable with. ——I understand that I will have access to my interview transcript and can make changes to it, including removing information. ——I understand that my contribution will remain confidential, that my identity will remain anonymous, and that I must choose a pseudonym that will be used in all research notes, transcripts, and the final documents to conceal my identity. ——I understand that the information that Jane Kani Edward would collect during our interview(s) will be used for her thesis and publications based on the thesis. ——I understand I will have access to the final document. ——I understand that all collected data will be maintained in a locked file at the home of Jane Kani Edward and that the only individuals who will have access to raw data will be Dr George Dei, supervisor, and Jane Kani Edward, researcher.
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——I understand that the collected raw data (i.e., audio tapes, transcripts, notes, etc.) will be destroyed five years after the completion of the thesis. ——I understand that I am free to withdraw from this study at any time without any prejudice or negative consequences as a result of withdrawal. Should I choose to do so, all notes, transcripts, and tapes relating to my input will be destroyed.
Please initial one of the following options: ——I consent to participate in the individual interview ——I consent to participate in the group discussion interview ————————
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Signature
Date
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Print Name
Occupation
Thank you in advance for your cooperation Respectfully, Jane Kani Edward The Department of Sociology and Equity Studies in Education of the University of Toronto (OISE/UT)
APPENDIX 2 CONSENT FORM FOR RESEARCH PARTICIPATION (ORGANIZATION’S/ CHURCH’S PARTICIPANT)
This form is to be fully completed by Name of the Organization/Church employee who desires to participate in the research study that examines the situation of southern Sudanese women refugees as they experience life in exile. ——I have read and understand Jane Kani Edward’s letter of Date of a proposed research project on southern Sudanese women refugees examining their situation as they experience life in exile. ——I understand that my participation in this research study is completely voluntary. ——I understand that the mandatory (one-hour) interview will be tape recorded for the purposes of transcription and the writing of the final document. However, I may request that the tape recorder be turned off at any time during the interview until I indicate that it may be turned on again. ——I understand that I will decide on a time and place for the interview. ——I understand that I am free not to answer any questions that I am not comfortable with. ——I understand that I will have access to my interview transcript and can make changes to it, including removing information. ——I understand that my contribution will remain confidential, that my identity will remain anonymous, and that I must choose a pseudonym that will be used in all research notes, transcripts, and the final documents to conceal my identity. ——I understand that I must provide signed consent to the release of findings obtained from interviews (in which I was a participant) to the organization/church. ——I understand that the information that Jane Kani Edward would collect during our interview(s) will be used for her thesis and publications based on the thesis. ——I understand I will have access to the final document. ——I understand that all collected data will be maintained in a locked file at the home of Jane Kani Edward and that the only individuals who will have access to raw data will be Dr George Dei, supervisor, and Jane Kani Edward, researcher.
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——I understand that the collected raw data (i.e., audio tapes, transcripts, notes, etc.) will be destroyed five years after the completion of the thesis. ——I understand that I am free to withdraw from this study at any time without any prejudice or negative consequences as a result of withdrawal. Should I choose to do so, all notes, transcripts, and tapes relating to my input will be destroyed.
Please initial one of the following options. ——I consent to participate in this study. ——I do not consent to participate in this study ————————
————————
Signature
Date
————————
————————
Print Name
Job Position
Thank you in advance for your cooperation Respectfully, Jane Kani Edward The Department of Sociology and Equity Studies in Education of the University of Toronto (OISE/UT)
APPENDIX 3 PRELIMINARY SAMPLE QUESTIONS
1 Sample Questions for Individual Interviews: Background Information about the Participants ●
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Name, gender, religion, ethnic group, age (optional), years spent in exile, marital status, number of children (if any), educational background, etc. What did you do while you were in Sudan? How many countries have you been to before coming to Egypt? How has the refugee situation affected gender relations both within the family and the society at large? What are some of the new skills and knowledge you have acquired while in Egypt? How have changes in gender roles affected relations between men and women refugees? How do the participants negotiate power relations within the family? How do the participants use their newly acquired skills, knowledge, and experiences to challenge some of the social and cultural aspects of the southern Sudanese society? What are some cultural aspects that the participants intend to question and change? What kind of future are the participants aspiring to? What is the nature of the relationship between the participants and the host population? What are some of the host country’s legal and cultural aspects that have influenced the participants’ ways of thinking? How do the participants use their organizing capabilities to improve their lives and that of their community? How do the participants resist the victimized and dependent image of a woman refugee?
Sample Questions for Organizations’ and Churches’ Personnel ●
When did your organization/church begin offering services to the Sudanese refugee population?
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Sample Questions for a Group Discussion with Women’s Association ● ● ● ● ●
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4
What motivated your organization/church to work with the Sudanese refugees? What kind of services or programs has your organization/church offered the refugees? What kind of obstacles or problems has your organization/church encountered in its dealing with the Sudanese refugees? What strategies has your organization/church used to address these obstacles or problems? Describe the nature of the relationship between your organization/church and the refugee.
When was your association formed? What is the name of your association? What are the objectives of the association? What kind of activities does your association carry out? What kind of problems, if any, are encountered by the association and its members? What steps are taken by the members to address these problems? Who funds the activities of the association? How is the association structured and managed? What cultural aspects of the southern Sudanese society do the association’s members think are obstacles to women progress? What strategies have women used to challenge these cultural aspects? Did the association send some of its members to attend a conference, seminar, workshop, or a course pertaining to women? If yes, how many women attended? Describe the nature of relationship between you (women refugees) and the host population?
Sample Questions for a Group Discussion with Youth ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●
Is there an organized body that represents youth refugees? If yes, when was it formed and what is its name? What are the objectives and activities of the organization? How is the organization structured and managed? Who funds the activities of the organization? What are some of the obstacles, if any, encountered by the organization? What are the main problems faced by youth refugees in Egypt? What kind of strategies are used by youth to address these problems? Describe the nature of relationship between you (i.e., youth refugees) and the host population?
APPENDIX 3
5
Sample Questions for a Group Discussion with Community Leaders ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●
6
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Is there an organized body that represents the refugee community? If yes, when was it formed? What are the objectives and activities of the organization? What kind of problems, if any, are encountered by the organization? What steps are taken to address these problems? What are the main problems faced by the refugee community in Egypt? What strategies are used to overcome some of these problems? Describe the nature of relationship between the refugee community and the host population?
Additional Questions ● ●
What is the role of religion in shaping refugees’ understanding? To what extent have the teaching and practices of the different churches affected the perception of the refugee?
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APPENDIX 4 THE RECORD OF MARRIAGES, APPLICATIONS FOR CERTIFICATE OF TRADITIONAL MARRIAGE AND BAPTISM FROM TWO CHURCHES IN CAIRO Al-Mughadas Church
1 Number of Sudanese Marriages Conducted at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Cairo, Egypt, between 1990 and August 2001 ●
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Between 1990 and 1994, there were six Sudanese marriages conducted at al-mughadas church. Between 1995 and August 2001, the number of marriages increased from 6 to 151 marriages.
Source: The Marriage Registry of the al-mughadas Church in Cairo, Egypt, 1990–2001. 2 The Number of Certificates of Traditional Marriages Granted to Applicants by the al-mughadas Church (1990–2001) ●
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Between 1990 and 1994, there was only one Certificate of Traditional Marriage granted by al-mughadas. Between 1995 and 2001, there were 559 Certificates of Traditional Marriages to applicants by al-mughadas church.
Notes: When applying for a Certificate of Traditional Marriage, the applicant (always the male) must submit photocopies of his passport and that of his partner, the passports of two witnesses from the side of the woman and the man, and any
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other document like the UNHCR ID card, membership card of an organization, or recommendation letter from an institution or employer. For the certificate to be valid it must be signed by the following three authorities: 1 2 3
The Foreign Ministry of the Arab Republic of Egypt. The Bishop of the Catholic Church in Egypt. The municipal government in Cairo.
Some of the people who submitted application to the church for validated certificate of traditional marriage did their marriage in Sudan whereas others conducted their marriage in Egypt. They just apply for these certificates for the purpose of resettlement. Source: Al-mughadas Church Documents, compiled by the parish priest, 2001. 3 Baptisms Conducted in al-mughadas Church for Sudanese Refugees between 1990 and August 2001 ●
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Between 1990 and 1994, there were 123 baptisms conducted in al-mughadas church. Between 1995 and August 2001, there were 1,028 baptisms conducted in al-mughadas church.
Notes: Baptisms were conducted every month. The majority of those baptized were children born between 1990 and 2001. Some of the children were born in Sudan whereas others were born in Cairo. Some older female and male refugees were also baptized. Source: The Baptisms Registry of al-mughadas Church Cairo, Egypt, 1990–2001.
The Kamalia Church 1 Number of Sudanese Marriages Conducted in kamalia Church between 1990 and 2001 ● ●
Between 1990 and 1994, there was no marriages conduced in kamalia church. Between 1995 and 2001 there were 68 marriages conducted in kamalia church.
Source: Register of Marriages at the kamalia Church, 1990–2001. 2 Number of Sudanese Refugees Baptized in the kamalia Church between 1990–2001 ●
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Between 1990 and 1994, there were twelve Sudanese baptized in the kamalia church. Between 1995 and 2001 there were 184 Sudanese baptized in the kamalia church.
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Baptisms Based on the above figures it is clear that the number of Sudanese refugees being baptized in this church started to grow gradually from the late 1990s through to the twenty-first century.
Marriages Few marriages were conducted in the kamalia church as compared to those conducted in al-mughadas church. According to the Sudanese priest who keeps the kamalia church records, these differences are partly due to the fact that obtaining a marriage certificate from the kamalia church involves payment of a sum of LE500.00, approximately US$125 (for Egyptians) and LE350.00, approximately US$34 for Sudanese refugees. Given the fact that many Sudanese refugees have limited financial resources, they cannot afford to pay. As a result, many turned to al-mughadas church, which provide such services free of charge. Source: Baptism Registers: Baptisms Administered in the kamalia church, Cairo Egypt, 1990–2001.
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APPENDIX 5 THE NUMBER OF SCHOOL CHILDREN ENROLLED IN THE THREE LEARNING CENTERS ESTABLISHED BY THE CHURCH GROUPS INCLUDED IN THIS STUDY
Learning Center
Number of Children
1. Nusiya 2. Muwanga 3. Afendiya
370 1,100 450
Total
1,920
Note: It is important to note that number of children is beyond the structural capacity of these centers. As a result there was overcrowding in small classrooms. Source: Individual interviews with the head teachers/Principals of the three centers included in this study.
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NOTES
Preface 1. The child-naming ceremony explained here is not representative of all clans of the Nyangwara people. It only applies to the Sereng clan of my father. 2. The data for this book was collected between December 2001 and January 2002. 3. See, e.g., G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996.
Introduction 1. Although the ruling party of Sudan changed its name from the National Islamic Front (NIF) to the National Congress Party (NCP) after the split in the NIF-dominated government in 1999, in the context of this book, I prefer to us NIF because of my conviction that the party’s ideologies and policies remained the same despite the signing of the CPA in January 2005. 2. There is no available statistical data showing how many people died or displaced during the seventeen-year civil war (1955–1972). 3. G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, pp. 44–61. 4. B. Q. Ebenezer, The Problems of Refugees in Africa, 1999. 5. See A. Zolberg, A. Suhrke, and S. Aguayo (eds), Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World, 1989; R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, pp. 46–82. 6. See C. Westin, “Regional Analysis of Refugee Movements: Origins and Response,” 1999, pp. 25–45, at p. 25; B. Harrel-Bond, Imposing Aid: Emergency Assistance to Refugees, 1986. S. Hamrell (ed.), Refugee Problems in African, 1967. 7. See R. Gorman, Coping with Africa’s Refugee Burden: A Time for Solutions, 1987, p. 86–97; R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, pp. 46–82. 8. Z. Mathews, “The Role of Voluntary Organization in the Refugee Situation in Africa,” 1967, pp. 97–98. 9. Cited in W. Giles, H. Moussa, and P. Van Esterik (eds), Development and Diaspora: Gender and Refugee Experience, 1996, p. 18.
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10. L. Malkki, “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistoricization,” 1996, p. 378. 11. Ibid. 12. D. Indra, “Not a ‘Room of One’s Own’: Engendering Forced Migration Knowledge and Practice,” 1999, p. 7. 13. W. Van Damme, “How Liberian and Sierra Leonean Refugees Settled in the Forest Region of Guinea (1990–96),” 1999, pp. 36–53. L. Malkki, “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistoricization,” 1996, pp. 377–405. 14. G. I. Smith, “The Role of the United Nations,” 1967, p. 113. 15. Ibid. 16. C. Mink, Africa’s Refugee Crisis: What to Be done? 1986; S. Hamrell (ed.), Refugee Problems in African, 1967; R. Gorman, Coping with Africa’s Refugee Burden: A Time for Solutions, 1987. 17. L. Malkki, Purity and Exile: Violence, Memory, and National Cosmology among Hutu Refugees in Tanzania, 1995, p. 8. 18. Ibid. 19. W. Giles, H. Moussa, and P. Van Esterik (eds.), Development and Diaspora: Gender and the Refugee Experience, 1996, p. 19. 20. A. Lesch, The Sudan: Contested National Identities, 1998; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998; G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996; G. Kebbede (ed.), Sudan Predicament: Civil War, Displacement and Ecological Degradation, 1999; M. W. Daly and A. Sikainga (eds), Civil War in the Sudan, 1993. 21. See E. Eltigani (ed.), War and Drought in Sudan: Essays on Population Displacement, 1995; H. A. Mahran, “The Displaced, Food Production, and Food Aid,” 1995, pp. 63–74. 22. S. E. Ibrahim, “War and Displacement: The Sociocultural Dimension,” 1995, p. 41. 23. See, e.g., E. Eltigani, War and Drought in Sudan: Essays on Population Displacement, 1995; A. Fully, “Effect of Displacement on Southern Women’s Health and Food Habits,” 1995; R. K. Badal, “Impact of Certain Legal and Administrative Measures Upon Displaced Women and Children in Greater Khartoum: Minority Rights under Islamic Sharia,” 1994; G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996. 24. L. Malkki, “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistoricization,” 1996, p. 379. 25. G. Buijis (ed.), Migrant Women: Crossing Boundaries and Changing Identities, 1993. 26. J. Schrijvers, “Fighters, Victims and Survivors: Constructions of Ethnicity, Gender and Refugeeness among Tamils in Sri Lanka,” 1999, pp. 307–333; M. Strathern, “An Awkward Relationship: The Case of Feminism and Anthropology,” 1987, pp. 276–292; L. A. McSpadden and H. Moussa. “I Have a Name: The Gender Dynamics in Asylum and in Resettlement of Ethiopian and Eritrean Refugees in North America,” 1993, pp. 203–225;
NOTES
27.
28.
29. 30. 31.
32.
33.
34. 35. 36.
37. 38. 39. 40.
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D. Indra, “Not a ‘Room of One’s Own’: Engendering Forced Migration Knowledge and Practice,” 1999, pp. 1–22; and “Some Feminist Contributions to Refugee Studies,” 1996, pp. 30–43. L. A. McSpadden and H. Moussa, “I Have a Name: The Gender Dynamics in Asylum and in Resettlement of Ethiopian and Eritrean Refugees in North America,” 1993, p. 205. E. Eltigani (ed.), War and Drought in Sudan: Essays on Population Displacement, 1995; H. A. Mahran, “The Displaced, Food Production, and Food Aid,” 1995, pp. 63–74. B. Ebenezer, The Problems of Refugees in Africa, 1999; C. I. Mink, Africa’s Refugee Crisis: What to Be done? 1986. L. Malkki, “Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistoricization,” 1996, p. 378. F. C. Steady, “African Feminism: A Worldwide Perspective,” 1989, pp. 3–24; M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994; O. Nnameaka, (ed.), Sisterhood, Feminism and Power: From Africa to Diaspora, 1998. K. Christensen, “‘With Whom Do You Believe Your Lot Is Cast?’ White Feminism and Racism,” 1997, pp. 617–648; P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, pp. 14–32; P. H. Collins, Fighting Words: Black Women and the Search for Justice, 1998; P. H. Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, 2000; G. T. Hull, P. B. Scott, and B. Smith (eds), All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men: But Some of Us Are Brave: Black Women’s Studies, 1982; D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, pp. 42–72; R. M. Brewer, “Theorizing Race, Class and Gender: The New Scholarship of Black Feminist Intellectual and Black Women’s Labor,” 1993, pp. 13–30. G. J. S. Dei, “Integrative Anti-Racism: Intersection of Race, Class and Gender,” 1995, pp. 11–30; “The Denial of Difference: Reframing AntiRacist Praxis,” 1999, pp. 17–37; M. L. Fellows and S. Razack, “The Race to Innocence: Confronting Hierarchical Relations among Women,” 1998, pp. 335–352. F. C. Steady. “African Feminism: A Worldwide Perspective,” 1989, p. 4. P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, p. 19. b. hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, 1984; P. H. Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, 2000; D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, pp. 42–72. R. M. Brewer, “Theorizing Race, Class and Gender: The New Scholarship of Black Feminist Intellectual and Black Women’s Labor,” 1993, p. 17. G. J. S. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996. Ibid. Ibid., p. 65.
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41. The estimated 20,000 or more Sudanese in Egypt includes UNHCR recognized refugees and non-recognized as well. This figure also includes those who came to Egypt for medical reasons, trade opportunities, and other reasons. 42. Personal communication with Peter Laku who studied in Egypt in the early 1990s. Telephone conversation, August 2003, Canada. 43. One of Egypt’s interests in Sudan is the waters of the Nile upon which Egypt and Sudan depend. As a result, to insure an uninterrupted flow of water, Egypt has to maintain ties with Sudan. For more on the Nile waters and the agreements reached between Egypt, Sudan, and the African countries that depend on the Nile, see, for example, G. Warburg, “The Nile in Egyptian-Sudanese Relations, 1956–1995.” In Haggai Erlich and Israel Gershoni (eds), The Nile: Histories, Cultures, Myths. Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner, 2000, pp. 227–234. Peter Woodward, Sudan 1898–1989: The Unstable State. Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1990. 44. The Egyptian Scholarship for Sudanese Students was terminated in 1993 when the NIF government, which took power in Sudan in 1989, suspended all funding for the students and required them to return to Sudan and complete their studies there. However, due to economic difficulties and instability in Sudan resulting from the civil war, many students, mainly southern Sudanese, remained in Egypt. 45. G. Warburg, “The Nile in Egyptian-Sudanese Relations, 1956–1995,” 2000, p. 232. 46. Ibid. 47. See J. K. Edward, “Southern Sudanese Informal Groups: Obstacles and Strengths of Collective Activities,” 1997, pp. 1–21. 48. Most of these families were from North America and Western Europe who were in Egypt on diplomatic missions, or working with international corporations. 49. The Urman Language Schools are private schools that use the Egyptian national curriculum. They range from preschool to high school levels. To enroll your child(ren) parents are required to pay school fees to cover their education. During my stay in Cairo before migrating to Canada in 1997, some Sudanese refugees, myself included, were able to enroll their children in these schools.
1 Root Causes of the “North-South” Conflict in Sudan 1. J. O. Voll and S. P. Voll, The Sudan: Unity and Diversity in a Multicultural State, 1985. 2. Fast Facts on Sudan: 1A1: Sudan Page @ Sudan.net—http://www.sudan. net, last updated January 2000. 3. M. Shibeika, Mukhtasar Tarikh al-Sudan al-hadith, 1963.
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4. J. O. Voll and S. P. Voll, The Sudan: Unity and Diversity in a Multicultural State, 1985. 5. Fast Facts on Sudan: 1A1: Sudan Page @ Sudan.net—http//www. sudan.net, last updated January 2000. “Behind the Lines in Shattered Sudan,” The National Geographic, February 2003, pp. 30–67. 6. G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 7. S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998, p. 25. 8. A. H. Idris, “Reconstituting Sudan’s Civil War: Slavery, Race and Formation of Identities,” 2000; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 9. E. N. Wakoson, “The Politics of Southern Self-Government 1972–83,” 1993, p. 32. 10. See P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000; E. N. Wakoson, “The Politics of Southern Self-Government 1972–83,” 1993, pp. 27–50. 11. See M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridge and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudan Civil War,” 1993. 12. The term Sudanists refers to non-Sudanese scholars who write about Sudan. 13. See O. Albino, The Sudan: Southern View Point, 1970; D. M. Wai (ed.), The Southern Sudan: The Problem of National Integration, 1973; and The AfricanArab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998; and F. M. Deng, War of Visions: Conflict of Identity in the Sudan, 1995. 14. D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981. 15. O. Albino, The Sudan: Southern View Point, 1970, p. 3. 16. See G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996; M. O. Bashir, The Southern Sudan: Background to Conflict, 1968; and M. Abdel Al-Rahim, “Arabism, Africanism, and SelfIdentification in the Sudan,” 1973, pp. 29–45. 17. See G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996, p. 56. 18. See, e.g., M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridge and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudan Civil War,” 1993, pp. 1–26; P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000; A. Sikainga, “Military Slavery and the Emergence of a Southern Sudanese Diaspora in the Northern Sudan,” 2000; pp. 23–37; J. Ewald, Soldiers, Traders, and Slaves: State Formation and Economic Transformation in the Greater Nile Valley, 1990. 19. See M. O. Bashir, The Southern Sudan: Background to Conflict, 1968; S. Al-Mahdi, Al Islam Wa-mas’alat, Janub al Sudan, 1985. 20. See M. O. Bashir, The Southern Sudan: Background to Conflict, 1968.
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21. A. Lesch, “Sudan,” 1987, pp. 263–280; D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981. 22. D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981; A. Lesch, “Sudan,” 1987; P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000. 23. Amir H. Idris, Conflict and Politics of Identity in the Sudan, 2005, p. 109. 24. See, e.g., A. Lesch, “Sudan,” 1987, pp. 263–280; The Sudan: Contested National Identities, 1998; G. R. Warburg, Historical Discord in the Nile Valley, 1992. 25. Some contemporary studies about Sudan have criticized the division of Sudan into north-south, Arab-African, or Muslim-Christian as simplistic and that such divisions tend to homogenize the north and south, which is not often the case. I also reaffirm here that my use of the north-south distinction does not assume their homogeneity rather they represent a differentiated categories based on race, class, gender, ethnicity, and other forms of social differences. 26. See S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998; F. M. Deng, War of Visions: Conflict of Identity in the Sudan, 1995. 27. F. M. Deng, War of Visions: Conflict of Identity in the Sudan, 1995, p. 3. 28. O. Albino, The Sudan: Southern View Point, 1970. 29. F. M. Deng , War of Visions: Conflict of Identity in the Sudan 1995, p. 14. 30. E. Said, “Reflections on Exile,” 1990, p. 359. 31. B. Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, 1983, p. 19. 32. B. Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, 2nd edn, 1991, p. 4. 33. M. O. Bashir, Educational Development in the Sudan: 1898–1956, 1969; A. H. Idris, “Reconstituting Sudan’s Civil War: Slavery, Race, and Formation of Identities,” 2000. 34. J. M. Gatkouth, “Ethnicity and Nationalism in the Sudan,” 1995, p. 206. 35. A. H. Idris “Reconstituting Sudan’s Civil War: Slavery, Race, and Formation of Identities,” 2000, p. 154. 36. Ibid., p. 147. 37. “Islam in Sudan tends to be associated with Arabism as a composite concept of race, ethnicity and culture,” see A. H. Idris, “Reconstituting Sudan’s Civil War: Slavery, Race, and Formation of Identities,” 2000, p. 7. 38. C. Fluehr-Lobban, Islamic Law and Society in Sudan, 1987, p. 271; see also A. An-na’im, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties, Human Rights and International Law, 1990. 39. C. Fluehr-Lobban, “Islamization in Sudan: Critical Assessment,” 1990, p. 614. For more on the Mahadist state, see G. R. Warburg, Historical Discord in the Nile Valley, 1992; P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000. 40. D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981.
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41. During the British colonial rule in Sudan, separate administrative and educational systems were established. Thus, the southern Sudan was administered by British administrators and its education system was administered by the missionaries. English language was the medium of instruction instead of Arabic. English was also the official language. For more on the separate system during the British, see D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981 and M. O. Bashir, The Southern Sudan: Background to Conflict, 1968. 42. D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981; G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996. 43. See D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981; L. Sandell, English Language in Sudan: A History of Its Teaching and Politics, 1982; G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996; L. M. Sanderson, “Conflict, Education and New Awareness in the South Sudan 1898–1956,” 1975, pp. 107–120. 44. See also M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridge and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudan Civil War,” 1993. 45. During the British colonial administration in the south, many southern Sudanese who converted to Christianity were given foreign names as justification of their acceptance of the new faith. Most of the names given were mostly European names or names from the Bible. 46. A. Al Affendi, Turabi’s Revolution: Islam and Power in Sudan, 1991, p. 149. 47. C. Fluehr-Lobban, Islamic Law and Society in Sudan, 1987, p. 280; see also A. An-na’im, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties, Human Rights and International Law, 1990. 48. Ibid., p. 281. 49. C. Fluehr-Lobban, “Islamization in Sudan: Critical Assessment,” 1990; A. Al Affandi, Turabi’s Revolution: Islam and Power in Sudan, 1991. 50. Middle East Report, 1991; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 51. PDF is a militia organized along the lines of the Iranian Revolutionary Guards, who help train its members. For more details, see Near East Report, May 24, 1993, p. 96. 52. Middle East Report, 1991, p. 24. 53. See also S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 54. After the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972, the regional government in the south established two patterns of education there—English and Arabic. The English pattern was intended for the southern Sudanese students who returned from the neighboring countries of Uganda and Kenya in order to continue their education in English. 55. Juba is the capital city of southern Sudan. 56. Cited in D. Oliver and J. Himelfard, “The Sudan: Another Case of ‘Ethnic Cleansing’ ”? 1993, p. 51.
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57. Near East Report, 1993, p. 96. 58. G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, pp. 55, 56. 59. See J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health, 1998, p. 138. 60. E. Said, Culture and Imperialism, 1993, p. xii. 61. F. Anthias and N. Yuval-Davis, “The Concept of ‘Race’ and the Racialization of Social Divisions,” 1992, p. 28. 62. These documents or laws are written in Arabic. I translated the excerpts included in the text into English. 63. See, e.g., “Sudan: Refugees in Their Own Country,” African Watch, vol. 4, no. 8 (July 10, 1992), pp. 1–25; Amnesty International Focus, “Living in a State of Fear,” 1995, pp. 3–6. 64. Profile 4, in chapter 4. 65. In Sudan, for a Sudanese to travel to another country, she or he has to obtain an exit visa to leave the country. For women to obtain the exist visa, the husband (if married) or a male relative (if not married) has to sign on the documents at the immigration office for the visa to be approved. I went through a similar process when traveling to Egypt in 1992. 66. See G. M. Hamid, Population Displacement in the Sudan: Patterns, Responses, Coping Strategies, 1996; B. Yongo-Bure, “The Underdevelopment of the Southern Sudan,” 1993, pp. 51–77; D. M. Wai, The African-Arab Conflict in the Sudan, 1981. 67. P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000; M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridge and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudan Civil War,” 1993. 68. See also M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridge and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudan Civil War,” 1993; B. Yongo-Bure, “The Underdevelopment of the Southern Sudan,” 1993, pp. 51–77. 69. Ibid. 70. P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000, p. 170. 71. See S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 72. F. M. Deng, War of Visions: Conflict of Identity in the Sudan, 1995, p. 4. 73. ICPD is the United Nations’ International Conference for Population and Development held in Cairo, Egypt, September 1994. WCW is the United Nations’ Fourth World Conference for Women held in Beijing, China, August 30 to September 15, 1995. 74. J. M. Jok, “Militarization and Gender Violence in South Sudan,” 1999, p. 430. 75. Ibid. 76. G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, p. 54. 77. See J. Battersby, “Gingerly Steps towards Demining the Globe,” 1994, pp. 6–7; G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, pp. 44–61.
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78. A. H. Idris, “Juba, Sudan,” 2003; S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998. 79. S. A. Wol, “Education of Displaced Southern Students in Northern Sudan,” 1995, p. 48. 80. B. Yongo-Bure, “The Underdevelopment of the Southern Sudan,” 1993, pp. 51–77. 81. A. Abbas, “The National Islamic Front and the Politics of Education,” 1991, cited in G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, p. 46. 82. S. E. Kulusika, Southern Sudan: Political and Economic Power Dilemmas and Options, 1998, p. 48. 83. “Coping with Dynamics of Culture and Change: Sudanese Refugees in East Africa and Internally Displaced Persons in Southern Sudan,” Sudan Cultural Digest Project (SCDP) Revised Research Report, no. 2 (December 1998). 84. Ibid. 85. See G. Kebbede, “Southern Sudan: A War-Torn and Divided Region,” 1999, pp. 44–61. 86. See J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health South Sudan, 1998. 87. Personal communication with Sebit Abe in Yei town in southern Sudan, 1997.
2 Conceptualizing Refugee Conditions from Feminist Perspectives 1. See, e.g., J. R. Rogge “African Resettlement Strategies,” 1985, pp. 168–186; R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, pp. 46–82. 2. E. G. Ferris, Refugees and World Politics, 1985, p. 4. 3. A. Zolberg, A. Suhrke, and S. Auayo (eds), Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World, 1989, p. 18. 4. R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, p. 55. 5. Ibid., p. 56. 6. Ibid., pp. 46–82; P. Matluo, “Upsetting the Cart: Forced Migration and Gender Issues,” 1999, pp. 128–145; D. Indra, “Not a ‘Room of One’s Own’: Engendering Forced Migration Knowledge and Practice,” 1999, pp. 1–22. 7. P. Matluo, “Upsetting the Cart: Forced Migration and Gender Issues,” 1999, p. 131. 8. Ibid. 9. R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, p. 65. 10. S. F. Martin, Refugee Women, 1991. 11. N. Valji, “Women and the 1951 Refugee Convention: Fifty Years of Seeking Visibility,” 2001, p. 32; see also J. Ramirez, “The Canadian
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12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30.
31. 32. 33.
34. 35.
NOTES
Guidelines on Women Refugee Claimants Fearing Gender-Related Persecution,” 1994, pp. 3–7. H. Crawley, Refugees and Gender: Law and Process, 2001, p. 13; see also J. Ramirez, “The Canadian Guidelines on Women Refugee Claimants Fearing Gender-Related Persecution,” 1994, pp. 3–7; S. Razack, Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 1998. H. Crawley, Refugees and Gender: Law and Process, 2001, p. 13. Ibid., p. 7. UNHCR 1990, cited in W. Giles, H. Moussa, and P. Van Esterik (eds), Development and Diaspora: Gender and the Refugee Experience, 1996, pp. 12, 13. See, e.g., J. Ramirez, “The Canadian Guidelines on Women Refugee Claimants Fearing Gender-Related Persecution,” 1994, pp. 3–7; S. Razack, Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 1998; N. Valji, “Women and the 1951 Refugee Convention: Fifty Years of Seeking Visibility,” 2001. S. Razack, Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 1998, p. 90. Ibid., p. 103. Ibid. H. Crawley, Refugees and Gender: Law and Process, 2001, p. 14. Ibid. Razack, Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 1998, p. 90. H. Crawley, Refugees and Gender: Law and Process, 2001, p. 13. N. Valji, “Women and the 1951 Refugee Convention: Fifty Years of Seeking Visibility,” 2001, p. 32. Ibid. A. Zolberg, A. Suhrke, and S. Aguayo (eds), Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World, 1989, p. 4. R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, p. 49. A. Zolberg, A. Suhrke, and S. Aguayo (eds), Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World, 1989, p. 29. R. Roger, “The Future of Refugee Flows and Politics,” 1992, p. 1117. For example, southern Sudanese women refugees in Northern Uganda, Kenya, or Egypt, Burundian refugees in Tanzania, Eritrean and Ethiopian refugees in North America, and so on. D. Indra, “Not a ‘Room of One’s Own’: Engendering Forced Migration Knowledge and Practice,” 1999, pp. 2, 6. M. Hammersely, “On Feminist Methodology,” 1995, p. 45. L. A. McSpadden and H. Moussa, “I Have a Name: The Gender Dynamics in Asylum and in Resettlement of Ethiopian and Eritrean Refugees in North America,” 1993, p. 204. J. Schrijvrs, “Fighters, Victims and Survivors: Constructions of Ethnicity, Gender and Refugeeness among Tamils in Sri Lanka,” 1999, p. 308. J. Flax, “Postmodernism and Gender Relations in Feminist Theory,” 1990, pp. 45, 46.
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36. W. Giles, H. Moussa, and P. Van Esterik (eds), Development and Diaspora: Gender and the Refugee Experience, 1996, p. 26. 37. D. Elson, “Male Bias in Development Process,” 1996, p. 1. 38. E. Said, “Reflections on Exile,” 1984, pp. 162, 170, 172. 39. Ibid., p. 166. 40. Ibid. 41. D. P. Lumsden, “Broken Lives? Reflections on the Anthropology of Exile and Repair,” 1999, p. 32. 42. Ibid. 43. See, e.g., R. Miles, Racism, 1989; D. T. Goldberg, Racist Culture: Philosophy and the Politics of Meaning, 1993; W. Omi and H. Winant, Racial Formation in the United States from the 1960s to the 1980s, 1986; A. Calliste and G. Dei, Anti-Racist Feminism: Critical Race and Gender Studies, 2000. 44. M. Castagna and G. Dei, “An Historical Overview of the Application of the Race Concept in Social Practice,” 2000, p. 23. 45. Ibid., p. 21; See also W. Omi and H. Winant, Racial Formation in the United States from the 1960s to the 1980s, 1986; R. Miles, Racism, 1989. 46. M. Castagna and G. Dei, “An Historical Overview of the Application of the Race Concept in Social Practice,” 2000, pp. 20, 21. 47. G. Dei, “Integrative Anti-Racism: Intersection of Race, Class and Gender,” 1995, p. 14. 48. W. Omi and H. Winant, Racial Formation in the United States from the 1960s to the 1980s, 1986, p. 6. 49. M. P. Banton, “The Intellectual Inheritance” and “The Idea of Racism,” 1977, p. 26. 50. T. Todorov, “Race and Racism,” 2000, p. 64. 51. R. Miles, Racism, 1989, p. 77. 52. R. Miles and M. Brown, Racism, 2nd edn, 2003, p. 9. 53. R. Miles, Racism, 1989, p. 79. 54. Ibid., pp. 38, 39. 55. Ibid., p. 39. 56. F. Anthias and N. Yuval-Davis, “The Concept of ‘Race’ and the Racialization of Social Divisions,” 1992, pp. 2, 15. 57. See chapter 8 in this book for details. 58. Ibid. 59. Li, “Race and Ethnicity,” 1990. p. 4. 60. F. Anthias and N. Yuval-Davis, “The Concept of ‘Race’ and the Racialization of Social Divisions,” 1992, p. 4. 61. Ibid., p. 9.
3 Conceptual Framework 1. See, e.g., F. C. Steady, “African Feminism: A Worldwide Perspective,” 1989, pp. 3–24; M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994; and O. Nnaemeka (ed.), Sisterhood, Feminism and Power: From Africa to Diaspora, 1998.
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2. See, e.g., P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outside Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, pp. 14–32; P. H. Collins, Black Feminist Thought, 2000; G. T. Hull, P. B. Scott, and B. Smith (eds), All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men: But Some of Us Are Brave: Black Women’s Studies, 1982; D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, pp. 42–72; K. Christensen, “With Whom Do You Believe Your Lot is Cast,” 1997, pp. 617–648; and R. M. Brewer, “Theorizing Race, Class and Gender: The New Scholarship of Black Feminist Intellectual and Black Women’s Labor,” 1993, pp. 13–30. 3. See, e.g., G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996; G. Dei, “The Denial of Difference: Reframing Anti-Racist Praxis,” 1999, pp. 17–37; M. L. Fellows and S. Razack, “The Race to Innocence: Confronting Hierarchical Relations Among Women,” 1998, pp. 335–352. 4. M. L. Fellows and S. Razack, “The Race to Innocence: Confronting Hierarchical Relations among Women,” 1998, p. 336. 5. See E. N. Glenn, “From Servitude to Service Work: Historical Continuities in the Racial Division of Paid Reproductive Labor,” 1992, pp. 1–43. 6. P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outside Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, p. 20. 7. G. T. Hull, P. B. Scott, and B. Smith, All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men: But Some of Us Are Brave: Black Women’s Studies, 1982, p. 13. 8. P. H. Collins, Black Feminist Thought, 2000, p. 277. 9. Ibid. 10. P. H. Collins, Fighting Words: Black Women and the Search for Justice, 1998, p. 208. 11. Ibid., p. 211. 12. M. L. Fellows and S. Razack, “The Race to Innocence: Confronting Hierarchical Relations among Women,” 1998, p. 336. 13. F. C. Steady, “African Feminism: A Worldwide Perspective,” 1989, p. 4. 14. See O. Nnameka (ed.), Sisterhood, Feminism and Power: From Africa to Diaspora, 1998. 15. M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994, p. 223. 16. S. Arndt, The Dynamics of African Feminism: Defining and Classifying African Feminist Literature, 2002, p. 71. 17. J. M. Nfah-Abbenyi, Gender in African Women’s Writing: Identity, Sexuality and Difference, 1997, pp. 10, 11. 18. See E. C. DuBois, G. P. Kelly, E. L. Kennedy, C. W. Korsmeyer, and L. S. Robinson (eds), Feminist Scholarship: Kindling in the Groves of the Academe, 1985. 19. C. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts: Third World Women and Feminism,” 1991, p. 315. 20. See, e.g., G. Lerner, “Placing Women in History: Definitions and Challenges,” 1979; J. Kelly, Women, History, and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly, 1984; C. Weedon, Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory, 1989.
NOTES
21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.
29. 30. 31. 32. 33.
34.
35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.
41. 42.
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C. Weedon, Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory, 1989. Ibid., p. 17. See R. Tong, Feminist Thought: A Comprehensive Introduction, 1989. E. N. Glenn, “Racial-Ethnic Women’s Labor: The Intersection of Race, Gender and Class Oppression,” 1985, p. 88. R. Tong, Feminist Thought: A Comprehensive Introduction, 1989, p. 180. A. M. Imam, “The Dynamics of WINing: An Analysis of Women in Nigeria (WIN),” 1997, p. 281. G. Mikell (ed.), African Feminism: The Politics of Survival in Sub-Saharan Africa, 1997, pp. 3, 4. S. Arndt, The Dynamics of African Feminism: Defining and Classifying African Feminist Literature, 2002, p. 73; see also M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994. See A. Aidoo, “Ghana: To Be a Woman,” 1984, pp. 258–265. J. M. Nfah-Abbenyi, Gender in African Women’s Writing: Identity, Sexuality and Difference, 1997, p. 10. M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994, p. 228. I. Amadiume, Reinventing Africa: Matriarchy, Religion and Culture, 1997, p. 111. Cited in R. Tabachnick and J. A. Beoku-Betts, “Using the Past to Fashion an Expanding Future,” 1998, p. 305; see also R. B. Folson, The Contribution of Formal Education to Economic Development and Economic Underdevelopment: Ghana as Paradigm, 1995. See, e.g., M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994; C. T. Mohanty, A. Russo, and L. Torres (eds), Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, 1991. M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994, p. 228. S. Arndt, The Dynamics of African Feminism: Defining and Classifying African Feminist Literature, 2002, p. 73. Ibid., p. 77. M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994, p. 11. D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, pp. 42–72. P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outside Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, pp. 14–32; D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, pp. 42–72. P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outside Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, p. 19. See, e.g., b. hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, 1984, P. H. Collins, “Learning from the Outside Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought,” 1986, pp. 14–32; P. H. Collins, Black Feminist Thought, 2000.
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43. R. M. Brewer, “Theorizing Race, Class and Gender: The New Scholarship of Black Feminist Intellectual and Black Women’s Labor,” 1993, p. 17. 44. D. King, “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology,” 1988, p. 47. 45. Ibid. 46. P. H. Collins, Fighting Words: Black Women and the Search for Justice, 1998, p. 205. 47. D. Brand, “Black Women and Work: The Impact of Racially Constructed Gender Roles on the Sexual Division of Labor,” 1999, p. 95. 48. R. Braidotti, “The Exile, the Nomad, and the Migrant: Reflections on International Feminism,” 1992, p. 9. 49. C. B. Davies, “Writing Off Marginality, Minority, and Effacement,” 1991, p. 259. 50. b. hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, 1984, pp. 51, 52. 51. G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996. 52. Ibid., p. 55. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid. 55. Ibid., p. 56. 56. Ibid., p. 57. 57. S. Razack, Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 1998, p. 90. 58. G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996, p. 64. 59. H. Getu and J. Nsubuga, “Health Issues Affecting Sub-Saharan African Women Refugees,” 1996, p. 200. 60. G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996, p. 64. 61. See M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994; A, Aidoo, “Unwelcoming Pals and Decorative Slaves: Or Glimpses of Women as Writers and Characters in Contemporary African Literature,” 1999, pp. 11–29. 62. G. T. Hull, P. B. Scott, and B. Smith (eds), All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men: But Some of Us Are Brave: Black Women’s Studies, 1982, p. 114. 63. G. Dei, “The Denial of Difference: Reframing Anti-Racist Praxis,” 1999, p. 28. 64. Ibid., p. 29.
4 Interviewing Refugees in Transit: Implications on the Research Process 1. B. Brock-Utne, “Reliability and Validity in Qualitative Research within Education in Africa,” 1996, p. 609. 2. See, C. J. Drew, M. L Hardman, and A. W. Hart (eds), Designing and Conducting Research: Inquiry in Education and Social Science, 2nd edn, 1996. 3. B. Merrill, Gender, Change and Identity: Mature Women Students in Universities, 1999, p. 49.
NOTES
231
4. Ibid. 5. C. J. Drew, M. L. Hardman, and A. W. Hart (eds), Designing and Conducting Research: Inquiry in Education and Social Science, 2nd edn, 1996, p. 174. 6. Ibid., p. 175. 7. E. Facio, “Ethnography as Personal Experience,” 1993, p. 88. 8. See R. F. Gorman, Coping with Africa’s Refugee Burden: A Time for Solution, 1987. 9. J. D. Douglas (ed.), Understanding Everyday Life, 1970, p. 37. 10. See M. Wharton-Zaretsky, Black Women Activists in Toronto from 1950 to 1990, 1999; K. Narayan, “How Native Is a ‘Native’ Anthropologist?” 1993; W. Labov, “The Logic of Non-Standard English,” 1973. 11. S. B. Gluck and D. Patai (eds), Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History, 1991, pp. 2, 3. 12. J. H. Stanfield II, “Ethnic Modeling in Qualitative Research,” 1994, p. 179. 13. M. Wharton-Zaretsky, Black Women Activists in Toronto from 1950 to 1990, 1999, p. 48. 14. See J. Finch, “It’s Great to Have Someone to Talk to: The Ethics of Politics of Interviewing Women,” 1984, pp. 39–62. 15. J. H. Standfield II, “Ethnic Modeling in Qualitative Research,” 1994, p. 176. 16. Juba Arabic or Arabi Juba is the version of Arabic language spoken in southern Sudan. It is a combination of Arabic words and expressions from some of the local languages spoken in the south. Juba Arabic represents a lingual frana in the south. In the context of this book, I use Juba Arabic. 17. I was in Cairo, Egypt, from August 1992 to 1997, before migrating to Canada. 18. I. E. Seidman, Interviewing as Qualitative Research, 1991, p. 3. 19. For the purpose of confidentiality, pseudonyms are used rather than the real names and ethnic groups of the individual participants, and of the groups and associations, churches and community organizations. However, the real names of organizations, such as the UNHCR, IOM, and the SPLM, are used with a verbal consent from those interviewed. For the purpose of protecting the identity of the officials I interviewed from these organizations, community, and church leaders, their real names are not used. Instead titles such as official, head teacher, representative, priest, or community leader are used.
5 Sociocultural Institutions and Laws Governing the Southern Sudanese Society 1. See, E. Hillman, Polygamy Reconsidered: African Plural Marriage and the Christian Church, 1975; D. G. Maillu, Our Kind of Polygamy, 1988; W. G. Blum, Forms of Marriage: Monogamy Reconsidered, 1989. 2. A. Mama, “Sheroes and Villains: Conceptualizing Colonial and Contemporary Violence against Women in Africa,” 1997, pp. 46–62; M. Ogundipe-Leslie, Re-Creating Ourselves: African Women and Critical
232
NOTES
3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.
23. 24.
Transformation, 1994; N. R. Hunt, “Domesticity and Colonialism in Belgian Africa: Usimbura’s Foyer Social, 1946–1960,” 1990, pp. 149–176; R. B. Folson, The Contribution of Formal Education to Economic Development and Economic Underdevelopment: Ghana as Paradigm, 1995. A. Mama, “Sheroes and Villains: Conceptualizing Colonial and Contemporary Violence against Women in Africa,” 1997, p. 52. See J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, 1998. A. Mama, “Sheroes and Villains: Conceptualizing Colonial and Contemporary Violence against Women in Africa,” 1997, p. 52. See N. R. Hunt, “Domesticity and Colonialism in Belgian Africa: Usimbura’s Foyer Social, 1946–1960,” 1990, pp. 149–176. N. Musisi, “Colonial and Missionary Education: Women and Domesticity in Uganda,” 1992, pp. 172, 173. See S. Walby, Theorizing Patriarchy, 1990. J. D. Holtzman, Nuer Journeys, Nuer Lives: Sudanese Refugees in Minnesota, 2000, p. 74. D. Elson, “Male Bias in the Development Process: An Overview,” 1996, p. 1. See profile 4, chapter 4 of this book. The Dinka is considered to be one of the largest ethnic groups in southern Sudan. They combine cattle keeping and agriculture for their livelihood. J. W. Makec, The Customary Law of the Dinka (Jieng): A Comparative Analysis of an African Legal System, 1986, p. 66. J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, 1998, p. 131. Rules of sexual taboo include refraining from sex during menstruation and when the woman is breastfeeding. J. Buxton, Religion and Healing in Mandari, 1973, p. 210. N. O. Akolawin, “Islamic and Customary Law in the Sudan,” 1971, p. 279. A. An-na’im, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties, Human Rights, and International Law, 1990, p. 90. Ibid. See also N. O. Akolawin, “Islamic and Customary Law in the Sudan,” 1971, pp. 279–301. A. An-na’im, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties, Human Rights, and International Law, 1990, p. 91. See J. W. Makec, The Customary Law of the Dinka (Jieng): A Comparative Analysis of an African Legal System, 1986. Aleu Akechak Jok, Robert A. Leitch, and Carrie Vanderwin, “A Study of Customary Law in Contemporary Southern Sudan.” 2004 Online Article, p. 23. http://www.gurtong.org/ResourceCenter/laws/customart%20law% 20overview%20south%Sudan%20March%202004_compresses.doc, last accessed on October 12, 2005. Ibid. For a detailed historical analysis of the development of Islamic Shari’a in Sudan and its implication as a public law governing people’s lives, see
NOTES
25.
26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41.
42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48.
233
A. An-na’im, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties, Human Rights, and International Law, 1990. Aleu Akechak Jok, Robert A. Leitch, and Carrie Vanderwin, “A Study of Customary Law in Contemporary Southern Sudan.” 2004 Online Article, p. 6 (refer to note 22 above for the full web site address). Ibid., p. 11. Ibid., p. 12. See J. W. Makec, The Customary Law of the Dinka (Jieng): A Comparative Analysis of an African Legal System, 1986. J. D. Holtzman, Nuer Journeys, Nuer Lives: Sudanese Refugees in Minnesota, 2000, p. 73. S. P. Bwogo, “The Shilluk (Collo) Ethnic Group,” 1998, p. 123. Ibid., p. 121. See J. M. Jok, “Militarization and Gender Violence in South Sudan,”1999, pp. 427–442. J. K. Edward, “South Sudanese Refugee Women: Questioning the Past, Imagining the Future,” 2001, p. 284. John W. Makec, The Customary Law of the Dinka (Jieng): A Comparative Analysis of an African Legal System, 1986, p. 46. J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, 1998, p. 152. See profile 13, chapter 4 of this book. Ibid. J. M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, 1998, p. 148. See profile 4, chapter 4 of this book. W. G. Blum, Forms of Marriage: Monogamy Reconsidered, 1989, p. 105. For more on the levirate or ghost marriage, see J. M. Jok, “Militarism, Gender and Reproductive Suffering: The Case of Abortion in Western Dinka,” Africa vol. 69 no. 2 (1999), footnote 9, p. 198. B. N. Duku, “The Kuku Ethnic Group,” 1998, p. 45. See Sudan Cultural Digest Project, “A Study of Some Ethnic Groups in Sudan,” Revised Research Report, no. 3, Cairo, Egypt, 1998. J. M. Jok, “Militarization and Gender Violence in South Sudan,” 1999, p. 200. See also A. Goebel, “‘Men These Days: They Are a Problem’: HusbandTaming Herbs and Gender Wars in Rural Zimbabwe,” 2002. See, e.g., J. K. Edward and B. N. Duku, “Redefining Gender Roles and Relations in Exile,” 1998. Some of the refugees living in Egypt include Palestinians, Somalis, Sudanese, Afghans, Ethiopians, Eritrians, and others. “Resettlement of Refugees from Egypt,” A Paper Based on Country Paper Prepared by UNHCR—RO Cairo for UNHCR Regional Resettlement Workshop (Addis Ababa, February 28 to March 2, 2001), drafted by Carolyn Ennis and Veronica Coulter, cleared by Vincent Cochetel, February 22, 2001, pp. 1–7.
234
NOTES
49. M. Al-Rasheed, “The Meaning of Marriage and Status in Exile: Experience of Iraqi Women,” 1993, p. 91. 50. Most southern Sudanese single men who migrated to Canada, the United States of America, and Australia, e.g., prefer to bring wives from Sudan or southern Sudanese women living in Egypt, rather than marrying a foreigner or those Sudanese women refugees who are already in these countries. One explanation given to such a preference is that women from Sudan still maintain the cultural values of respect and submissiveness as compared to their counterparts in the West. 51. See profile 6, chapter 4 of this book. 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid. 55. See appendix 5 for record of marriages and application for certificate of traditional marriage from two churches in Cairo. 56. The al-mughadas church was the only church in Cairo that issues certificate of traditional marriage to southern Sudanese refugees, in addition to those who get married in the church. The other church only issues certificate to couples who get married in the church. 57. See profile 10, chapter 4 in this book. 58. Ibid. 59. See profile 7, chapter 4 of this book.
6 Sudanese Refugees and the Challenges of Life in Cairo 1. As explained in chapter 5 of this book, culturally accepted behavior of children and youth include, among others, respect for elders, self-respect, and obedience. 2. S. Sperl, “Evaluation of UNHCR’s Policy on Refugees in Urban Areas: A Case Study Review of Cairo,” 2001, pp. 1–43. 3. Ighama is an Arabic word for resident permit that allows all foreigners including southern Sudanese refugees to stay legally in Egypt. I preferred to use ighama instead of resident permit because the refugees in Cairo commonly use it. 4. There were about four refugee schools and learning centers operating at the time of my research. Only head teachers of three of these schools were interviewed. For a list of these schools and learning centers, refer to appendix 5. 5. See profile 12, in chapter 4 of this book. 6. S. Sperl, “Evaluation of UNHCR’s Policy on Refugees in Urban Areas: A Case Study Review of Cairo,” 2001, p. 13. 7. See profile 13, in chapter 4 of this book. 8. See profile 1, in chapter 4 of this book. 9. Ibid.
NOTES
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10. See profile 11, chapter 4 in this book. 11. S. Sperl, “Evaluation of UNHCR’s Policy on Refugees in Urban Areas: A Case Study Review of Cairo,” 2001, p. 15. 12. See profile 6, in chapter 4 of this book. 13. The majority of Egyptian landlords/ladies do not provide tenants with written rent contracts. Most agreements are usually verbal. In this way, the landlord/lady can ask the tenant to leave the apartment at any time. 14. See profile 11, in chapter 4 of this book. 15. See profile 5, in chapter 4 of this book. 16. S. Sperl, “Evaluation of UNHCR’s Policy on Refugees in Urban Areas: A Case Study Review of Cairo,” 2001, p. 28. 17. The refugee status determination procedures and the reasons for the delays involved will be dealt with in the second section of this chapter. 18. See C. Moorehead, “Lost in Cairo,” 2002, pp. 28–29. 19. Although some Sudanese have approached the UNHCR office in Cairo prior to 1994, to claim refugee status, the office did not accept their claims on the basis that their status in Egypt do not fall under the 1951 UN Convention that defines who is a refugee. This decision was based partly on the claim that Sudanese in Egypt are not there as refugees but they are in their second country, as stipulated in the takamul agreement signed between Sudan and Egypt I already explained in the introduction. However, on October 20, 1994, some twenty southern Sudanese women with their children protested in the UNHCR office demanding refugee status. They spent a night inside the UNHCR premises and were later forced out by Egyptian authorities. Following these women’s protest, some men from the community helped draft a petition to be sent to Geneva demanding an explanation as to why Sudanese claims were rejected. During that time also many southern Sudanese migrated to Kenya upon hearing that the UNHCR office there was processing Sudanese refugee cases. A team of experts was sent from Geneva to Cairo to review the situation. It was after this review that the UNHCR Cairo office began to process Sudanese refugee claims. 20. The Musa’adin derived its name from the Arabic word Musa’ad, meaning assistant or helper. Thus, the musa’adin are those people who extend help or services to those who need it on voluntary bases. 21. CARITAS is an international confederation of 149 Catholic organizations constituted for charitable and social action. Its role is to assist its members in 194 countries and territories to spread charity and social justice throughout the world (Copyright@2004CRS). 22. C. Moorehead, “Lost in Cairo,” 2002, p. 28. 23. See profile 6, in chapter 4 of this book. 24. See profile 16, in chapter 4 of this book. 25. This is particularly true of those refugees whose cases are already approved or those sponsored by a family member abroad (family class) and are waiting to be resettled. 26. See E. V. Daniel and J. C. Knudsen (eds), Mistrusting Refugees, 1995, p. 1. 27. See profile 12, in chapter 4 of this book.
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NOTES
28. See profile 17, in chapter 4. 29. See profile 4, in chapter 4. 30. During the time of my study, the majority of the UNHCR RO Cairo staffs were Egyptian nationals. They conducted most of the interviews for refugee status determination, and I think this made many refugees who approached the UNHCR suspicious, given the already strained relationship between refugees and the host population (see chapter 8). 31. See profile 4, in chapter 4 of this book 32. See US Committee for Refugees, “World Refugee Survey 2002 at 188,” available at http://www.refugees.org/WRS2002, last accessed on March 19, 2003. 33. See profile 17, in chapter 4 of this book 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. The information provided here is obtained from an interview with a southern Sudanese refugee who worked with the IOM in Cairo. I also participated in a one-day orientation session organized by IOM for southern Sudanese refugees preparing to migrate to Finland. 37. See profile 10, in chapter 4 of this book. 38. See profile 14, chapter 4 of this book. 39. For confidentiality reasons, the real names of these centers and community organizations are not used in the text. Pseudonyms are used instead. For the number of school children enrolled in these learning centers at the time of my research, see appendix 4 in this book. 40. See profile 11, in chapter 4 of this book. 41. See appendix 4. 42. See profile 5, in chapter 4 of this book. 43. See profile 17, in chapter 4 of this book. 44. See profile 12, in chapter 4 of this book. 45. See profile 1, in chapter 4 of this book. 46. See Jane K. Edward, “Southern Sudanese Informal Groups: Obstacles and Strengths of Collective Activities among Southern Sudanese in Cairo,” 1997, pp. 1–21. 47. These community organizations include the Zaituna, Abanus, Shela, and Lumaring. 48. See profile 17, in chapter 4 of this book. 49. See profile 1, in chapter 4 of this book. 50. For detailed analysis of the purpose and issues addressed in the Tuesday meetings, refer to chapter 7 in this book.
7
Transformations and Future Imaginings
1. J. Bascom, Losing Place: Refugee Populations and Rural Transformations in East Africa, 1998, p. 130. 2. See G. Buijis (ed.), Migrant Women: Crossing Boundaries and Changing Identities, 1993.
NOTES
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3. See J. M. Peteet, Gender in Crisis: Women and the Palestinian Resistance Movement, 1991, p. 6. 4. See G. Buijis (ed.), Migrant Women, 1993. 5. See, e.g., D. Indra, “Not a ‘Room of One’s Own’: Engendering Forced Migration Knowledge and Practice,” 1999, pp. 1–22; L. A. McSpadden and H. Moussa, “I Have a Name: The Gender Dynamic in Asylum and in Resettlement of Ethiopian and Eritrean Refugees in North America,” 1993, pp. 203–225; J. Schrijvrs, “Fighters, Victims and Survivors: Constructions of Ethnicity, Gender and Refugeeness Among Tamils in Sri Lanka,” 1999. 6. A. Portes, “Immigration Theory for a New Century: Some Problems and Opportunities,” 1997, p. 816. 7. G. Buijis, Migrant Women, 1993, p. 2. 8. See J. K. Edward, “South Sudanese Refugee Women: Questioning the Past, Imagining the Future,” 2001, pp. 273–289. 9. See J. Benson, “Reinterpreting Gender: Southeast Asian Refugees and American Society,” 1994, pp. 82, 83. 10. See profile 13, in chapter 4 of this book. 11. Ibid. 12. See profile 9, in chapter 4 of this book. 13. See profile 10, in chapter 4. 14. See profile 13, in chapter 4. 15. Ibid. 16. See J. M. Jok, “Militarization and Gender Violence in South Sudan,” 1999, pp. 427–442. 17. See profile 13, chapter 4. 18. See profile 8, in chapter 4. 19. See profile 5, in chapter 4. 20. See profile 18, in chapter 4. 21. Louise White, “Women in the Changing African Family,” p. 375. 22. Jok M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, p. 17. 23. See profile 5, in chapter 4. 24. See profile 13, in chapter 4. 25. Neloufer De Mel, Women and the Nation’s Narrative: Gender and Nationalism in Sri Lanka, 2001, p. 39. 26. See profile 3, in chapter 4 of this book. 27. The Tukul Craft shop, established in 1994, acts as a central location where Sudanese and other African refugee home-makers bring their items to be sold. Some of the items sold include handmade baskets, dresses, printed tablecloths, and jewelery. 28. A detailed analysis of the experience of domestic workers is provided in chapter 8 of this book. 29. As a former member of rabita, I used to attend these meetings every Tuesday during the period of my research. 30. See profile 4, in chapter 4. 31. See profile 6, in chapter 4.
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NOTES
32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.
38. 39. 40.
41. 42. 43. 44.
45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.
Ibid. See profile 4, in chapter 4. Ibid. See profile 16, in chapter 4. See profile 5, in chapter 4. The peace negotiations between the SPLM/A and the Sudan’s NIF government ended by the signing of the CPA between the two parties on January 9, 2005. See J. K. Edward, “South Sudanese Refugee Women: Questioning the Past, Imagining the Future,” 2001, pp. 273–289. C. Obbo, “What Do Women Know? . . . As I Was Saying,” 1997, p. 43. Cited in J. M. Nfah-Abbenyi, Gender in African Women’s Writing: Identity, Sexuality, and Difference, 1997, p. 51; see also M. Ogundepe-Leslie, ReCreating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformation, 1994. See profile 1, in chapter 4 of this book. The project consists of nine people, eight men and I. Ibid. John Akec, “Back to Basics: Tackling the Erosion of Cultural and Family Values in Diaspora,” Online Article, Southern Sudan Net (ssnetbackup@ topica.com), October. 30, 2002, pp. 1–3; at p.1, last accessed on November 2, 2002. See profile 3, in chapter 4. See profile 4, in chapter 4. See profile 1, in chapter 4. See profile 5, in chapter 4. See profile 7, in chapter 4. See profile 4, in chapter 4. Jok M. Jok, Militarization, Gender and Reproductive Health in South Sudan, 1998, p. 100. See profile 5, in chapter 4. Ibid. See profile 7, in chapter 4. See profile 18, in chapter 4. See profile 4, in chapter 4. See profile 5, in chapter 4.
8
Race, Racism, and Ethnicity in a Refugee Context
1. See G. Dei, Anti-Racism Education: Theory and Practice, 1996. 2. See R. Miles, Racism, 1989. 3. See F. Anthias and N. Yuval Davis, “The Concept of ‘Race’ and the Racialization of Social Divisions,” 1992, pp. 1–20. 4. See M. Hussein, Class Conflict in Egypt 1945–1970, 1973; J. E. Tucker, Women in Nineteenth Century Egypt, 1986.
NOTES
239
5. Cited in Cynthia Johnson, “FEATURE—Egypt’s African Migrants Dodge Rocks, Fight Racism,”
[email protected], June, 24, 2002, pp. 1–4. 6. See profile 10, in chapter 4. 7. See profile 12, in chapter 4. 8. The Muwanga School is located within the al-mughadas premises. 9. See profile 3, in chapter 4. 10. See profile 11, in chapter 4. 11. See profile 10, in chapter 4. 12. See M. Hussein, Class Conflict in Egypt 1945–1970, 1973. For a detailed analysis of class differentiation and class relations in Egypt, refer to chapter 1: “The Contending Classes,” pp. 15–61, of Hussein’s book. 13. See G. Amin, “Economic Change, Social Structure, and Religious Fanaticism,” 1997, p. 576. 14. Ibid. pp. 576, 577. 15. See A. E. Macleod, Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veil and Change in Cairo, 1991, p. 34. 16. Ibid. 17. See D. N. Wilber, United Arab Republic of Egypt: Its People, Its Society, 1969, p. 98. 18. See A. E. Macleod, Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veil and Change in Cairo, 1991, p. 34. 19. See profile 12, in chapter 4. 20. Cited in Abdalla Hassan, “Sudanese Refugees: Down and Out in Cairo,” http://www.worldpress.org/mideast/312.cfm. Cario, Egypt, July 31, 2000, p. 6, last accessed on October 28, 2001. 21. It is important to note that there is no limit on the period of detention, no periodic review of detention, and no access to government-funded legal aid. As a result, when refugees are detained, they will remain in detention until their case is either brought to the attention of the UNHCR Cairo office (for those refugees accepted by the UNHCR) or until it is determined that they will either be released or deported. 22. Mark Bennet, “JRM All Saints: Arrests in Cairo,” South_Sudan_
[email protected], January 29, 2003, last accessed on February 1, 2003. 23. See profile 12, in chapter 4. 24. See profile 5, in chapter 4. 25. Ibid. 26. See, J. Momsen (ed.), Gender, Migration and Domestic Service, 1999; A. Bridget, Doing the Dirty Work? The Global Politics of Domestic Labor, 2000; G. Ozyegin, Untidy Gender: Domestic Service in Turkey, 2001. 27. See B. Anderson, Doing the Dirty Work? The Global Politics of Domestic Labor, 2000. 28. Shughl in Arabic means work. Shughl Oshin means Oshin work. This phrase is derived from a Japanese TV series named “Oshin” which was shown on Egyptian TV in 1993, that many southern Sudanese were
240
29.
30.
31. 32.
33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.
41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48.
NOTES
watching. At that time also some southern Sudanese women started working as domestic workers mainly in foreign national’s residence. The meaning of Shughl Oshin is based on the role of the young main character in the series named “Oshin” who played the role of a domestic worker in a wealthy family. At the end of the series “Oshin,” through her hard work, was able to establish her own business and lived happily ever after. However, for the southern Sudanese domestic workers, that happy ending is uncertain. See S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in a Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989; A. Sikainga, Slaves into Workers: Emancipation and Labor in Colonial Sudan, 1996. For more on slavery in Egypt, see, e.g., Judith E. Tucker, Women in Nineteenth Century Egypt, 1986, see also S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in the Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989; and G. Nashat and J. Tucker (eds), Women in the Middle East and North Africa, 1999. See S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in a Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989. See J. Tucker, Women in Nineteenth Century Egypt, 1986; P. M. Holt and M. W. Daley, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000; S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in a Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989, A. Sikainga, Slaves into Workers: Emancipation and Labor in Colonial Sudan, 1996. See P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000. M. W. Daly, “Broken Bridges and Empty Basket: The Political and Economic Background of the Sudanese Civil War,” 1993, p. 3. See P. M. Holt and M. W. Daly, A History of the Sudan: From the Coming of Islam to the Present Day, 5th edn, 2000, p. 42. See S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in a Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989, p. 19. See A. Sikainga, Slaves into Workers: Emancipation and Labor in Colonial Sudan, 1996, p. 22. See Judith Tucker, Women in Nineteenth Century Egypt, 1986, p. 167. Ibid., p. 170 See S. Abdel Kader, Egyptian Women in a Changing Society, 1899–1989, 1989, p. 24; see also D. N. Wilber, United Arab Republic of Egypt: Its People, Its Society, 1969. See A. Sikainga, Slaves into Workers: Emancipation and Labor in Colonial Sudan, 1996. See D. N. Wilber, United Arab Republic of Egypt: Its People, Its Society, 1969. See B. Baron, “The Making of the Egyptian Nation,” 2000, p. 137 Ibid., p. 144. See profile 11, in chapter 4. Ibid. See profile 2, in chapter 4. Ibid.
NOTES
49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56.
57. 58. 59.
60. 61.
62. 63. 64. 65. 66.
241
See profile 7, in chapter 4. See D. Wilber, United Arab Republic of Egypt: Its People, Its Society, 1969, p. 99. See profile 2, in chapter 4. See profile 11, in chapter 4. See profile 2, in chapter 4. See profile 3, in chapter 4. See profile 2, in chapter 4. See A. E. Macleod, Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veil and Change in Cairo, 1991; G. Nashat and J. Tucker (eds), Women in the Middle East and North Africa, 1999. See D. G. Bates and A. Rassam, Peoples and Cultures of the Middle East, 1983, p. 212. See A. E. Macleod, Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veil and Change in Cairo, 1991, pp. 99, 101, 124. Ibid., pp. 82, 83; see also L. Abu-Lughod, Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society, 1986; D. G. Bates and A. Rassam, Peoples and Cultures of the Middle East, 1983. See profile 1, in chapter 4. El Maadi is divided into three sections namely Hadayik El Maadi, El Maadi, and Sakanat El Maadi. Many Southern Sudanese refugees were found in Hadayik El Maadi. Face-to-face conversation with Peter Lasu in Cairo, December 2001. See profile 3, in chapter 4. Ibid. See A. E. Macleod, Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veil and Change in Cairo, 1991. See profile 2, in chapter 4.
Conclusion 1. See, e.g., R. Zetter, “International Perspectives on Refugee Assistance,” 1999, pp. 46–82; A. Ager (ed.), Refugees: Perspectives on the Experience of Forced Migration, 1999.
Epilogue The Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) and the Decision to Return 1. For more details on the CPA, see http://SPLMToday.com, and also see Waithaka Waihenya, The Mediator: General Lazaro Sumbeiywo and the Southern Sudan Peace Process. Nairobi, Kenya: Kenway, 2006. 2. Sudan Tribune Article: “26 Sudanese Refugees Killed by Egyptian Police— ONG (January 1, 2006), p. 1, http://www.sudantribune.com/imprimable. php3?id_article513321, last accessed on November 17, 2006. 3. Ibid., p. 2. 4. Ibid.
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NOTES
5. Daniel Williams, “Police Attack Cairo Refugee Camp,” Washington Post Article, http://www.washingtonpost.com (December 30, 2005), pp. 1–2. 6. See, e.g., Roba Gibia, “Why Only 517 Refugees Back to Sudan from Egypt,” Sudan Tribune Article, http://sudantribune.com (October 17, 2006), pp. 1–2.
GLOSSARY
a’gid Al Dokki al marah al mithaliya Al Muhandisseen al ziyy al Islami al-a’rabi huwa a’rabi al-baida al-habashiya al-marah al-Sudaniya al-nizam al-a’m al-samara al-sauda or ya-sauda aregi bawab chocolata deepo El Maadi foul Masri (falafel) geliba sukhun hadir haram hareem/harem hijab/hejab idafa idman ighama inta mutaghawiza? karama/karamto kasha kharabu biyut nas ma’arafa marah a’wira masarif Masr el-Gedida meran
contract residential area in Cairo ideal woman or wife residential area in Cairo Islamic dress code an Arab is an Arab white light colored or Ethiopian the Sudanese woman the public order brown or light colored black home-brewed beer a door man chocolate traditional baby carrier residential area in Cairo kind of beans hot tempered yes sir/madam, forbidden women dress code addition or inclusion Alcohol addiction resident permit are you married? pride/one’s pride forcible relocation home wrecker connection to people in positions of power foolish woman sustenance money to cover family needs residential area in Cairo child-naming ceremony
244
GLOSSARY
moudo al idafa mubeed mugamma musa’adin (plural), musa’ad (singular) musharadin mutakhalif (singular), mutakhalifin (plural) niswan El-Maadi sahran (singular), sahranin (plural) salahiya mua’ayan shagala (singular), shagalat (plural) Shari’a shughl Oshin simaya ta’ashira al a’wuda takamul tobe walis (plural), wali (singular) wata dalamat wilayat (plural), wilayah (singular) ya girid Zamalek
the issue of addition or inclusion live-in domestic worker the Ministry of the Interior assistant(s) or helper(s) runaway children backward person(s) the Maadi women mentally disturbed specific quality or importance domestic worker(s) Islamic law domestic work child-naming ceremony re-entry visa integration northern Sudanese traditional dress state governor(s) darkness state(s) you, monkey residential area in Cairo
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Unpublished Primary Sources List of Interviewees For issue of safety and confidentiality, the real names and ethnic groups of the participants are not used. Pseudonyms are used instead. However, a brief profile of each participant below is provided in chapter 4 to provide context to their narratives. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
Joby Zuzu Rasha Reba Du Ani Mama Ziya Kaku Saki Glo Rox Ding Ome Gon Marc Ale Yak
Churches, international organizations, women’s organizations, youth associations, refugee community organizations, schools/learning centers, and other organizations included in the study: The information about the objectives and activities of these churches and organizations was obtained through interviews with representatives of these entities. In total I interviewed nineteen representatives individually.
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BIBLIOGRAPHY
Churches 1 2 3
Ma’mudiya Al-mughadas Kamalia
International Organizations 1 2
United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) International Organization of Migration (IOM)
Women’s Organizations 1 2 3
Nawsa Rabita Aswani
Youths’ Associations 1 2
Nesaya Riyada
Refugee Community Organizations 1 2 3 4
Shela Abanus Lumaring Zaituna
Schools/Learning Centers 1 2 3
Muwanga Afendiya Nusiya
Others 1 The Tukul Craft 2 Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A), Middle East Office Unpublished Documents Church Records The Baptism Registers: Baptisms Administered in the Kamalia Church, Cairo, Egypt, 1990–2001.
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The Baptism Registry of Al-Mughadas Church in Cairo, Egypt, 1990–2001. The Marriage Registry of the Al-Mughadas Church in Cairo, Egypt, 1990– 2001. The Register of Marriage of the Kamalia Church in Cairo, Egypt, 1990–2001.
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INDEX (Please note that page numbers in italics indicate end notes.) Abboud, Ibrahim, 25 Abdel Kader, Soha, 170 Addis Ababa Peace Agreement (1972), 1, 9, 18, 31, 223 Adultery, 25, 85 African dress, 171, 181 “African” identity, 181 African Refugees, 3–5, 59, 77, 120, 125 Africanness, 31 Aidoo, Ama Atta, 54, 150 Albino, Oliver, 20 Alcohol, 25, 130, 191 Alcoholism community seminars and, 129, 130 families and, 137 rejection and, 112 southern Sudanese refugees and, 166–67, 195 Sudanese youth and, 34, 107 Ale (interviewee), 77, 117, 119–20, 124, 128 Amadiume, Ifi, 53 Anderson, Benedict, 23 Ani (interviewee), 74, 95–97, 110–11, 115, 146, 148 Anthias, Floya, 28, 47 “Arab” identity, 31, 181 Arab culture, 9, 21, 24–25, 28 Arabic language, 10, 20, 24–26, 69 Arabism, 13, 23–24, 28 Arabization, 13, 24–26, 30, 181 Arndt, Susan, 51, 53, 55 Aswani, 143–44 Asylum 39–41, 116, 119
INS and, 40 Asylum seekers, 39, 41, 42, 59, 112–120 Auayo, Sergio, 37 Authority, 65–67 Banton, Michael P., 46 el Bashir, Mohammed O., 19 Blum, William G., 90 Brand, Dionne, 57 Brewer, Rose M., 56 Brock-Utne, Brigit, 63 Buijis, Gina, 134–35 Buxton, Jean, 83 Cairo children’s education and, 103–7 church groups in, 122–27 community organizations in, 127–31 domestic workers and, 139, 168–69, 172–78 family and, 137–38, 140 IOM and, 120–22 political parties in, 8–9 racism and, 47, 59, 159–87 refugee-host relationship, 160–68 refugee housing in, 110–11 refugee youth in, 107–10 resettlement and, 11–12, 93–100 sexual harassment of women workers, 178–87 slavery and, 169–72 SPLM/A office in, 127–29 Sudanese refugees in, 6, 8, 12–13, 46, 61, 66–69, 72–77
262
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Cairo—continued UNHCR Regional Office, 8, 42, 66, 112–19, 197 women refugees and, 12–13, 56, 59, 137–54, 156–57 Castagna, Maria, 45–46 Child custody, 14, 65, 84–85, 86–87, 100 Christianity Coptic Christians, 171 discrimination and, 58, 163, 181 domestic workers and, 177 marriage and, 86, 91 naming and, 25 refugees and, 58, 191, 198 “Southern Policy” and, 21 Sudan and, 18, 21, 22, 223 Churches attendance, 125, 127, 191 church groups, 11, 15, 46, 61, 69–70, 72, 93, 103, 106, 119, 122–23, 135, 177, 191, 215 church-based organizations, 65, 76, 123 interdenominational, 125–26 riots, 161–62, 166 services, 125–26, 191 Civilization, race and, 30, 47 Class class oppression, 7, 49, 56–57 class relations, 15, 72, 160, 163, 165, 174, 195 class structure, 163 classism, 56–58 Collins, Patricia H., 7, 49–50, 56–57 Collo, 88 Colonialism, 20–22, 26, 30, 37, 55, 80–81, 223 neo-colonialism, 55 postcolonial period, 1, 21–22, 81 precolonial period, 19–20, 21, 37, 60, 81 Colonization, 45, 59–60, 80 Community organizations, 14–15, 95, 99, 103, 113, 127–30, 197 Crawley, Heaven, 39, 40
Cultural ideology, 23–24, 28, 46, 51, 54, 80–81 Cultural perceptions churches and, 65, 69, 71 displacement and, 140–41 Egypt-Sudan relationship and, 161, 171–72, 174 gender and, 150, 152, 157–58, 180 national identity and, 146–47 refugee youth and, 107–8 women refugees and, 60, 71–72, 133–34, 135, 148, 185 Cultural practices customary law and, 92 national identity and, 32 refugee youth and, 107–8 resettlement and, 93, 191 Southern Sudan and, 18, 32, 166 women and, 53, 55, 72, 142, 149, 152–53, 155, 157–58, 193, 198 “Cultural vacuum”, 24 Customary laws, 68, 83, 84, 85–88, 92 See also Laws Decision making, 83, 92, 137, 140–41, 150, 155, 192, 194 Dei, George J. S., 7, 8, 45–46, 58–60, 203 Deng, Francis, 22, 31 Dependency, refugees and, 3, 5–6, 35, 56, 59, 61, 134, 140, 189–90, 192 Diaspora, 32, 33, 39, 51, 55 Ding (interviewee), 76, 89–90, 107, 136–38, 141 Discourse, 13, 20, 22, 23, 28, 30, 36, 39, 47, 54, 59, 85 Sudanese national discourse, 13, 20, 28, 36 Discrimination African feminism and, 7, 55, 56 class and, 165–66 gender and, 59, 85, 91, 92 NIF government and, 4 race and, 13, 46–47 refugees and, 43, 64, 117, 131 Southern Sudanese and, 18–19, 147
INDEX
Displacement, 142, 190–93, 199 displaced persons, 1, 11, 33–35 family and, 98, 140 gender and, 7–8, 134 identity and, 32 Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), 1, 4, 43 marriage and, 93 national discourse and, 13 refugee “problem” and, 3–5 refugee youth and, 107–8 Sudanese civil war and, 1, 33 troubles/benefits of, 190–93 UNHCR and, 118 uprootedness, 6, 93, 134, 150, 155 women and, 50, 51, 56, 133, 142 Divorce customary law and, 85–88 divorce process, 87 Egyptian lawyers and, 197–98 Islam and, 84–85 polygamy and, 89–90 refugees and, 96, 99–100 resettlement and, 102, 192 society and, 83 UNHCR rejection and, 112 women and, 152, 157, 182 Domestic slavery, 169–72, 195 Domestic sphere, 81 Domestic violence, 27, 39, 193 Domestic workers Aswani and, 144 employers and, 197–98 exploitation and, 165 family and, 190, 192, 194 non-Egyptian employers and, 12 opportunity and, 168–69, 186 paid, 168, 172–78 Rabita and, 145 race and, 47 sexual harassment and, 178 SPLM/A and, 127–28 violence and, 196 women and, 12, 72–77, 106, 131, 136, 140, 149, 154–55, 168–69
263
Domesticity, Victorian ideology of, 80–81 Du (interviewee), 74, 111, 124, 139, 141, 155–58, 167 Duku, Benaiah N., 91 Ebenezer, Blavo Q., 2 Education classrooms, 105–6, 191, 215 educational support, 123–24 head teacher, 104, 106–7, 124, 160, 168, 215 learning centers, 104, 123, 215 obstacles to children’s education, 14, 103–7 refugee schools, 104–7, 234 women’s education, 153 See also Examinations, final examinations Egypt Egyptian Scholarship, 9, 127 landlords/ladies, 110–11, 197 Ministry of Education, 104 women employers, 15, 47, 155, 168–69, 172–74, 176–77 See also Cairo Egyptian lawyers, 99, 118, 197–98 Emancipation, 150 Empowerment, women and, 44, 49–50, 92, 150 Ethnic groups, 17–19, 84–90 Bari, 18, 27 Dinka, 18, 27, 32, 83, 85, 92, 153, 156 Nuer, 18, 82, 85 Shilluk, 18, 88 Ethnicity, defined, 48 Examinations final examinations, 104–5, 107, 191 medical examinations, 120–22 Exile, 189–90, 192–93, 195, 200 community and, 5, 7, 142, 147–48, 150, 151–53 community organizations and, 127–29 defined, 44–45
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Exile—continued discrimination and, 181 gender and, 79, 80, 92, 133, 135, 140–41 interviews and, 65, 69–72 marriage and, 93–94 marginalization and, 32 nationalism and, 23 rabita and, 144, 145–47 Facio, Elisa, 64 Families composition, 105, 110 planning, 90, 114 structure, 11, 34, 105–6, 108 unity, 98–100 Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), 55, 81 Feminism African, 51–56 black feminism, 56–58 liberal feminism, 52 mainstream Western feminism, 7, 52–53 Marxist Feminism, 52–53 radical feminism, 52 Western feminism, 52–54 Third World feminism, 53 Ferris, Elizabeth, 37 Fundamentalism, 55 Gender defined, 43–44 division of labor and, 82–84, 153 gender relations, defined, 44 ideologies, 15, 72, 179–80, 185, 196 role reversal, 134–41, 157, 193–95 roles, 133, 134–41, 155 Gender-based violence, 27, 39–40, 43, 59, 81, 168, 193 Getu, Haragua, 59 Giles, Wenona, 39, 44 Glenn, Evelyn N., 53 Glo (interviewee), 75–76, 111, 124, 172, 175 Gluck, Sherna Berger, 66
Gon (interviewee), 76 Gorman, Robert F., 2, 3 Hamid, Gamal M., 20 Hamrell, Sven, 3 Hareem slavery, 169 Health, 4, 53, 59, 65, 109, 120–21, 123, 129, 130, 181 health facilities, 125 healthcare providers, 177 public health, 4 reproductive health, 91, 92, 147 Hollo, Marida, 54 hooks, bell, 57–58 Host countries, 5, 118–19, 130, 133, 160, 200 Host governments, 38, 166, 201–2 Host societies, 15, 181–82, 185, 196 refugee-host relationships, 14, 15, 58, 160–68, 181, 197 Household composition, 39, 44, 80–82, 89, 138, 140–41, 194 Housing, 6, 14, 103, 110–11 overcrowding, 110–11, 190–91, 197 Hull, Gloria T., 49 Human Rights Human Rights Convention, 39, 149 UNHCR and, 101 violations, 19, 27, 42–43, 144, 201 women’s rights and, 81 Hussein, Mahmoud, 163–64 Ibrahim, Salah el din E., 4 idafa, 93–99, 191, 197 Idris, Amir H., 21, 24 ighama, 104, 107, 116, 234 Imagining, future and, 23, 25, 72, 133–58 gender role reversal, 134–41 obstacles to women’s participation, 152–54 rabita’s weekly meetings and, 145–47 suggested solutions, 155–58 women and leadership roles, 150–52 women and organizational work, 142–45, 147–50
INDEX
Imam, Ayesha M., 53 Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS), 40, 121 Indra, Doreen, 3, 43 Insider/outsider status, 67–69 Integration, 2, 10, 24, 93, 142 Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), 17 Interlocking systems of oppression, 7, 13, 49–50, 57, 58, 60–61, 159, 189 See also Oppression Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), 4, 6, 104–5, 159, 199, 200 Intersecting systems of oppression, 7, 49–50, 57, 60, 189 See also Oppression Intersectional paradigms, 49–50 Intersectionalities, 7–8, 57, 58–60 Interviews with refugees authority and power and, 65–67 data analysis, 71–72 insider/outsider issue and, 67–69 methodological approach to, 63–65 process, 11, 14, 69 sample size, 70–71 selected profiles, 72–77 study sample, 69–70 Islam culture, 20–21, 23–24, 28–30 government and, 31 identity and, 13, 22, 26–28 religious practice, 25 women and, 51, 180 See also National Islamic Front; Shari’a Islamic African Center, 25 Islamic African Relief Agency, 25 Islamism, 10, 13, 23–24, 28 Islamization, 13, 24, 26, 30, 85, 181 Joby (interviewee), 73, 109, 126, 150–52, 154 Jok, Aleu A., 85 Jok, Jok Madut, 25, 27, 83, 89–91, 140, 156
265
Johnson-Odim, Cheryl, 52 Kaku (interviewee), 75, 137 Kebbede, Girma, 27, 33 King, Debora K., 56–57 Kulusika, Simon, 18, 34 Laws Customary Law Act (of ) 1964, 85 English, 84–85 family, 88 lawyers, 87, 99, 118, 121, 197–98 personal, 24, 80, 144, 198 public, 84–85 See also Customary laws; Shari’a Leitch, Robert A., 85 Li, Peter, 48 Lumsden, David P., 45 Macleod, Arlene E., 164–65, 180 Mahdist State Makec, John W., 83, 85 Malkki, Liisa, 2–3, 5 Mama, Amina, 80–81 Mama (interviewee), 74–75, 101, 157, 174 Marc (interviewee), 77, 115–16, 148 Marginalization economic/political disparities and, 30–33 gender and, 135, 139 Sudanese refugees and, 18–21, 163, 193 women and, 145–49, 154 Marriage bride wealth, 86–87, 89, 91, 98 Certificate of Traditional Marriage, 95, 97, 211–12 forced marriage, 26–27, 81, 99 levirate/Ghost marriage, 55, 80, 91 patterns and meaning of, 26-27, 34, 71, 92 process, 88–91 Masarif, 141 McSpadden, Lucia A., 2, 43 Merrill, Barbara, 63–64
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Migration forced migration, 5, 38, 40–41, 43, 134, 161 International Organization of Migration, 11 Mikell, Gwendolyn, 53 Miles, Robert, 46–47 Ministry of Interior, 122 Mink, Cimade, 3 Moussa, Helene, 2, 39, 43, 44 Mubarak, Hosni, 10 mubeed, 73, 74, 109, 172–176, 178, 190 Mugamma, 116, 122 musa’ad, 77 musa’adin, 77, 113, 117, 119, 120, 197 Muslims See Islam Narratives grand narratives, 7, 56, 60 national narratives, 23 National discourse, 13, 20, 28, 36 National identity, 13, 17, 22–24, 32, 146 National Islamic Front, 1 See also Islam Nationalism, 22–30 Nationalist discourse, 22–23, 28–30 Nawsa, 142–43 Nfah-Abbenyi, Juliana M., 51, 54 Nile Valley agreement, 10 Nimeiri, Jaafar M., 18, 25, 27, 32, 85 Norms, 107–8, 140 North-South conflict, 19–22 Nsubuga, Joyce, 59 Nyangwara ethnic group, 91 Ogundipe-Leslie, Molara, 51, 54–55 Ome (interviewee), 76, 122 Oppression social, 7–8, 13, 58–60 systems of, 7, 13, 49–50, 57, 58, 60–61, 159, 189
Organization organizational work, 142, 147–50 organizational hierarchy, 154 women’s organization, 152–54 Organization of National Unity (OAU), 41–42, 120 Oshin work, 169, 173, 186 shughl Oshin, 169, 239–40 Patai, Daphne, 66 Politics gender and, 191–93, 198 humanitarian intervention and, 5 international relief agencies and, 2–3, 38 Nawsa and, 142–43 women and, 54, 81–82, 84, 92, 147–48, 151, 152–57 Polygamy/polyandry, 55–56, 80, 84, 88–92, 100–1, 155–57 Popular Defence Forces (PDF), 26, 34, 223 Power, 65–67 Pregnancy, 34, 82–83, 88, 90, 125 Private voluntary organizations (PVOs), 2, 65 Prostitution, 6, 26–27, 34, 81, 166, 179, 182–87, 190, 196–97 Public domain, 194 Public/domestic dichotomy, 81–82 Public sphere, 52, 82, 84, 135 Qur’an, 85 Rabita, 144–47 Race defined, 45–46 racial hierarchy, 56–57, 163 racialization, 6–7, 21, 46, 57–58, 190 Al-Racheed, Madawi, 94 Racism anti-racism, 7, 13, 58–61, 159, 189 defined, 46–47
INDEX
Integrative Anti-Racism Framework, 58–61 Rape, 6, 26–27, 40, 81, 94 Rasha (interviewee), 73, 153, 163, 176, 183–84 Razack, Sherene, 40, 49, 59 Reba (interviewee), 73–74, 83, 90, 117–18, 146–47, 153, 155, 158 Refugees alcoholism and, 166–67, 195 Christianity and, 58, 191, 198 class distinction, 12 defined, 41–43 dependency and, 3, 5–6, 35, 56, 59, 61, 134, 140, 189–90, 192 discrimination and, 43, 64, 117, 131 early arrivals, 9–10 education and, 104–7, 234 newcomers, 10–12 population in Egypt, 8–9 refugee status, 14, 42, 65–66, 68, 112–15, 154 refugeeness, 6, 60–61, 168, 175 screening process for, 120–22 southern Sudanese women refugees, 12–13 Refugee Data Center, 121 See also Cairo Rejection, 14, 59, 100, 103 Musa’adin and, 119–20 UNHCR cases and, 14, 112–13 Religion See Christianity; Islam Resettlement Cairo and, 11–12, 93–100 cultural practices and, 93, 191 polygamy and, 100–2 UNHCR and, 12, 14, 59, 66, 79, 93, 94–98, 106, 129, 167, 168, 191, 197 Rox (interviewee), 76, 105, 117, 126, 162, 165–66 Said, Edward W., 23, 28, 44–45 Saki (interviewee), 75, 100, 122, 137 Schrijvers, Jok, 43
267
Scott, Patricia B., 49 Screening process for refugees, 120–22 Seidman, Irving E., 71 Sex abstinence, 90 sexual division of labor, 44, 53, 82–84, 135, 140, 153, 190, 193 sexual relations, 89–90, 92, 183 sexual violence, 39–40, 59 sexuality, 49–50, 52–53, 57–58, 59, 83, 179 taboos, 83, 90, 232 Sexism, 52–53, 56, 58 sexual harassment, 6, 13, 81, 160, 178–87, 190, 196 sexual remarks, 179, 183–84, 196 Sexually Transmitted Diseases, 33, 92 HIV/AIDS, 92, 121 Shari’a, 25, 28, 51, 84–85, 87 See also Islam Simultaneity, 7, 49, 57 Slavery, 20–21, 22, 30, 47, 163, 174, 196 domestic slavery, 72, 168, 169–72, 174, 178, 195, 196 female slaves, 52, 55, 170, 173, 179, 184 institution of, 169–72 Smith, Barbara, 49 Smith, George Ivan, 3 Socialization culture and, 79 masculine\feminine, 82 women and, 153, 193 Southern Sudanese Students Association (SSOSA), 10 Sponsorship assurance, 121 Stanfield, John H. II, 68 Steady, Filomina Chioma, 51 Sudan economic and political disparities, 30–33 effects of civil war on South, 33–36 nationalism and, 22–30 North-South conflict, 17–22
268
INDEX
Sudan People’s Liberation Movement and Army (SPLM/A), 231, 238 Cairo office and, 127, 177, 186 civilians and, 27 community issues and, 127, 129 CPA and, 1, 199–200 domestic workers and, 165 landmines and, 33 southern Sudan and, 19, 33–35 women and, 27, 143, 144, 149, 157 Suhrke, Astri, 37 Todorov, Tzvetan, 46 Tong, Rosemarie, 53 Tucker, Judith, 170 UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees), 220, 231, 235, 239 caseworkers, 61, 112, 116–18 church groups and, 122, 124 domestic workers and, 176 education and, 103–4, 106–7 failures, 159 families and, 98–100, 192, 197 Identity Card, 14, 115–16, 212 interviews and, 70–71, 72–77 IOM and, 120–22 legal protection, 115–16 musa’adin program and, 119–20 polygamy and, 100–2 refugee status and, 14, 42, 65–66, 68, 112–15, 154 Regional Office Cairo, 113–14, 116–19, 236 resettlement and, 12, 66, 93, 94–96, 167, 168, 201 Sudanese refugees and, 8, 11–12 women refugees and, 5–6, 38–41, 157, 194
Van Esterik, Penny, 39, 44 Vandewint, Carrie, 85 Violence against women, 27, 39–40, 43, 59, 81, 168, 193 Wai, Dunstan, 19–20 Wharton-Zaretsky, Marcia, 67 Widows, 34, 80, 91–92, 182 Institution of Widow Inheritance, 91–92 widow inheritance, 80, 91–92 Wol, Stephen, 34 Women African women’s groups, 71, 142–47, 148, 150, 153 African-American women, 56–58, 60 barren women, 88–89 bodies and sexuality, 52, 83, 91, 177, 180–81 mobility and, 83, 172 refugee literature and, 38–41 southern Sudanese Women, 5–7, 12–13 Third World, 53, 59 violence against, 27, 39–40, 43, 59, 81, 168, 193 womanhood, 56–57, 88 See also Feminism Yak (interviewee), 77, 139, 157 Yuval-Davis, Nira, 28, 47 Zetter, Rogers, 37, 38 Ziya (interviewee), 75, 139 Zolberg, Aristide, 37 Zuzu (interviewee), 73, 173–74, 176–77, 186
